UNSINKABLE
by Master KaiKen
Summary: The year is 1912. An aloof American and a proper Englishman's paths collide aboard the grandest ship of their time... The TITANIC. "Unsinkable even by God." USxUK AU APH/Titanic Parody.
1. Departure

Unsinkable

AN: This story is based on the 1997 movie, Titanic. This will be AU and I will be using the real names of the characters. I have no idea what urged me to write something so so… err.. cheesy and sappy such as this. The thing is, I love period movies, and Titanic was one of them, one of the most beautifully made movies in history if you ask me. Even if the story of Jack and Rose is all fiction, it still blends in somehow. The first time I've ever watched Titanic was 13 years ago (Omg yes.. it has been that long already) and I was about 8 years old. It impacted me even then… and until recently when I saw Titanic running in HBO one day, I never in my life imagined the true beauty of the story now that I'm much older and could understand more.

Sooooo… lets just hope I don't fail at this.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. IF THAT WERE SO THEN I SHALL BE "THE KING OF THE WORLD!"… LITERALLY. XD

Chapter I: Departure

Southampton, England, April 10, 1912. It is almost noon on sailing day.

The gleaming white superstructure of a majestic ship rises mountainously beyond the rail, and above that the buff-colored funnels stand against the sky like the pillars of a great temple. Crewmen move across the deck, dwarfed by the awesome scale of the steamer. A crowd of hundreds blackens the pier next to ship like ants on a jelly sandwich. On the pier horse drawn vehicles, motorcars and lorries move slowly through the dense throng. The atmosphere is one of excitement and general giddiness. People embrace in tearful farewells, or wave and shout bon voyage wishes to friends and relatives on the decks above.

A white Renault, leading a silver-gray Daimler-BENZ, pushes through the crowd leaving a wake in the press of people. Around the handsome cars people are streaming to board the ship, jostling with hustling seamen and stokers, porters, and barking WHITE STAR LINE officials. The Renault stops and the liveried driver scurries to open the door for a handsome young man dressed in a stunning white and ecru suit, with a bowler hat. He had salt and pepper blond hair in a slightly messy crop, handsome, regal of bearing with piercing green eyes.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about." The young man said "It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauretania."

"You can be biased about some things, dear Arthur, but not about Titanic." said another handsome man beside him, with a crisp French accent. His long blonde hair was tied on his back with an elegant bow. "It's over a hundred feet longer than Mauretania, and far more luxurious. It has squash courts, a Parisian cafe... even Turkish baths."

The Frenchman turns and gives his hand to another gentle man, who descends from the touring car being him. This one was bespectacled and has dark brunette hair with a beauty mark on his chin. He stood poised with his expensive mahogany walking stick while staring up skeptically at the ship before them.

"Your son is much too hard to impress, Roderich." commented the Frenchman.

"Oh think nothing of it Francis." said the bespectacled man while still gazing upon the Titanic. "So this is the ship they say is unsinkable?"

"It is unsinkable. God himself couldn't sink this ship." said Francis, speaking with the pride of a host providing a special experience.

This entire entourage of rich people is impeccably turned out – the young man, his bespectacled father and the flamboyant Frenchman who was apparently the young English man's fiancée. A quintessential example of the Edwardian upper class, complete with servants.

Francis checks his golden pocket watch and rubs his chin. "We'd better hurry. This way, gentlemen."

He indicates the way toward the first class gangway. They move into the crowd. Their maids hustle behind them, laden with bags of their masters' most recent purchases... things too delicate for the baggage handlers. The Frenchman leads the way, weaving between vehicles and handcarts, hurrying passengers (mostly second class and steerage) and well-wishers. Most of the first class passengers are avoiding the smelly press of the dockside crowd by using an elevated boarding bridge, twenty feet above. They pass a line of steerage passengers in their coarse wool and tweeds, queued up inside movable barriers like cattle in a chute.

"Honestly, Francis, if you weren't forever booking everything at the last instant, we could have gone through the terminal instead of running along the dock like some squalid immigrant family." complained the bespectacled man.

"All part of my charm, Roderich." said Francis. "At any rate, it was my darling fiancee's beauty rituals which made us late."

"You told me to change." reasoned Arthur.

"I couldn't let you wear black on sailing day, mon cheri. It's bad luck." His fiancée said with a wink.

"I felt like black." The young man sulked.

"Here I've pulled every string I could to book us on the grandest ship in history, in her most luxurious suites... and you act as if you're going to your execution." The Frenchman pointed out.

Arthur looked up as the hull of Titanic looms over them...a great iron wall, Bible black and silver. Francis motions him forward, and he enters the gangway to the D Deck doors with a sense of overwhelming dread. Francis' hand closes possessively over Arthur's arm. He escorts him up the gangway as the black hull of Titanic swallows them.

_It was the ship of dreams... to everyone else. Arthur thought in his head, To me it was a slave ship, taking me to America in chains. Outwardly I was everything a well brought up gentleman should be. Inside, I was screaming._

###_  
_

There was a screaming blast from the mighty triple steam horns on Titanic's funnels, bellowing their departure warning.

From several blocks away, a view of the Titanic could be seen towering above the terminal buildings like the skyline of a city. The steamer's whistle echoes across Southampton even reverberating inside of a smoky pub. It is crowded with dockworkers and ship's crew. Among the dirty wooden tables and chairs, a poker game is in progress. Four men, in working class clothes, play a very serious hand.

An American and an Italian exchange a glance as the other two players argue in Swedish. The American, Alfred Jones, was a lanky drifter with his blond hair a little long for the standards of the times. He is also unshaven, and his clothes are rumpled from sleeping in them. He is an artist, and has adopted the bohemian style of art scene in Paris. He is also very self-possessed and sure-footed for 19, having lived on his own since 15. He looks at the two men with his bright blue eyes, one Swedish, one Finnish.

"You stupid fishhead, Berwald. I can't believe you bet our tickets." said the Finnish man in Swedish.

"You lost our money, Tino. I'm just trying to get it back. Now shut up and take a card." said the serious Swedish man.

"Hit me again, Berwald." said the American in his jaunty Swedish. Alfred takes the card and slips it into his hand, his blue eyes betray nothing. The Italian next to him licks his lips nervously and refuses a card.

There was a stack in the middle of the table of bills and coins from four countries. This poker game has been going on for a while. Sitting on top of the money are two 3rd class tickets for RMS Titanic. The Titanic's whistle blows again out side. A final warning.

"It's the moment of truth boys," The American spoke up. "Somebody's life's about to change."

The Italian puts his cards down. So do the Swedes. Alfred holds his close.

"Let's see..." Alfred's eyes trailed over to all three of them. "Feliciano's got niente.. Tino, you've got squat. Berwald, uh oh... two pair... hmmm." He turns to his Italian friend. "Sorry Feliciano."

"What sorry?" The Italian starts to panic and puts his cards down. "What you got? You lose my money? Ma va fa'n culo testa di cazzo- !"

"Sorry, you're not gonna see your fratello again for a long time..." Alfred cut in before the Italian goes into hysterics. He slaps a full house down on the table and grins "'Cause you're goin' to America! Full house boys! Whoo hooo!"

"Porca Madonna! YEEAAAAA!" the Italian rejoiced. The table explodes into shouting in several languages. Alfred rakes in the money and the tickets.

"Sorry boys." Alfred says to the Swedes, "Three of a kind and a pair. I'm high and you're dry and..." he turns to Feliciano and smiles, "we're going to—"

"L'AMERICA!" the Italian finished and dances.

Alfred kisses the tickets, then jumps on Feliciano's back and rides him around the pub. It's like they won the lottery!

"Goin' home..." Alfred said enthusiastically. "to the land o' the free and the home of the real hot-dogs! On the TITANIC! We're ridin' in high style now! We're practically goddamned royalty, ragazzo mio!"

"You see?" Feliciano joined his friend's rejoicing, "Is my destinio! Like I told you. I go to l'America! To be a millionaire!" In his excitement he speaks to the pubkeeper and hugs him. "Capito? I go to America!"

"No, mate," said the pubkeeper. "Titanic goes to America. In five minutes."

"Shit! Come on, Felli!" Alfred grabs for their stuff then grabs Feliciano by the collar. "Come on!" He then turns back and bows at the pub's occupants. "It's been grand." And with that, they run for the door.

"'Course I'm sure if they knew it was you lot comin', they'd be pleased to wait!" the pub keeper shouted after them in good humor.

Al and Feliciano, carrying everything they own in the world in the kit bags on their shoulders, sprint toward the pier. They tear through milling crowds next to the terminal. Shouts go up behind them as they jostle slow-moving gentlemen. They dodge piles of luggage, and weave through groups of people. They burst out onto the pier and Alfred comes to a dead stop... staring at the cast wall of the ship's hull, towering seven stories above the wharf and over an eighth of a mile long. The Titanic is monstrous.

Feliciano runs back and grabs Alfred, and they sprint toward the third class gangway aft, at E deck. They reach the bottom of the ramp just as the Sixth officer detaches it at the top. It starts to swing down from the gangway doors.

"Wait! We're passengers!" Alfred said a bit flushed and panting, he waves the tickets.

"Have you been through the inspection queue?" asked the officer.

"Of course!" he lied cheerfully "Anyway, we don't have lice, we're Americans." He glances at Feliciano, "Both of us."

"Right, come aboard." said the officer, who was getting testy and beckoned them to come in. He had the quartermaster reattach the gangway and Alfred and Feliciano came aboard. The Officer glances at the tickets, then passes Alfred and Feliciano through another officer. He hands the tickets back, eyeing Feliciano's Mediterranean looks suspiciously. Alfred was careful not to grin like a maniac and instantly grabbed Felicano's arm excitedly once the inspection is over. The two friends whoop with victory as they run down the white-painted corridors... grinning from ear to ear.

"We are the luckiest sons of bitches in the world!" Alfred said.

The mooring lines outside, as big around as a man's arm, are dropped into the water. A cheer goes up on the pier as seven tugs pull the Titanic away from the quay. Alfred and Feliciano burst through a door onto the aft well deck. They run across the deck and up the steel stairs to the poop deck. They get to the rail and Alfred starts to yell and wave to the crowd on the dock.

"You know somebody?" Feliciano looked at the other in curiosity.

"Of course not. That's not the point." said Alfred, he turns to the crowd albeit knowing no one and waves enthusiastically. "Goodbye! Goodbye! I'll miss you!"

Grinning, Feliciano joins in, adding his voice to the swell of voices, feeling the exhilaration of the moment. "Goodbye! I will never forget you!"

The crowd of cheering well-wishers waves heartily as a black wall of metal moves past them. Impossibly tiny figures wave back from the ship's rails as the Titanic gathers speed. The bow wave spreads before the mighty plow of the liner's hull as it moves down the River Test toward the English Channel and the Titanic finally sails for the first time…

To be continued.

AN: D; I hope I didn't disappoint anyone. Here's some notes that needs some clearing up.

Roderich being Arthur's "father"?: Well, I couldn't exactly choose who's gunna be the strict mother who rules with an iron fist. It can't be Rome or even Germania.. And Ludwig is strict, but he's too butch and manly to be Ruth. So I opted for Austria since he has class and has an air of an aristocrat.

The lucky handed poker game with Sweden and Finland: Well, if you watch the movie again Jack bet against two Swedish men in that poker game so I put them there. XD They're a bit OOC, please forgive me. oTL Also! Tino can speak in Swedish cuz Finland is known to be bilingual and they could speak both Finnish and Swedish.

Feliciano being Al's best friend?: In the movie Jack has this Italian best friend named Fabrizio. I was choosing between Romano and Feliciano... and Felicano won cuz Fabrizio is a bit clueless with everything. XD

Ok, I think that's all. Please remember that THIS IS AN AU and do not really pertain to any of the real countries. Tell me what you guys think and tell me if I should continue this! 8D


	2. From the Bow to the Stern

Unsinkable

AN: Well, so far I'm glad of the responses from you guys. 8'D I know my writing is a bit long and dragging sometimes but I just don't want to jump and skip a lot of parts. Perhaps in a really really cracked up parody of this it might work, but I'm getting all srs bzns about the plot and story. And maybe some of you might think this is dragging cuz you've already watched the movie and know what'll happen next? Lol. I'm going on an all out research on this. Please pardon my meticulous love for details and such, I'll try to lessen it once the story picks up. I didn't think a lot of people would like the story cuz of the sheer cheesiness of the idea. XD

Disclaimer: :/ I'm still not the king of the world unfortunately.

* * *

Chapter II: From the Bow to the Stern

Just as we left our two 3rd class passengers to go and find their quarters down below, in contrast, the so-called "Millionaire Suite" is in Empire style, and comprises of two bedrooms, a bath, WC, wardrobe room, and a large sitting room. In addition there is a private 50 foot promenade deck outside. A room service waiter pours champagne into a tulip glass of orange juice and hands the Bucks Fizz to Arthur. The young Englishman is looking through his new paintings. There is a Monet of water lilies, a Degas of dancers, and a few abstract works. They are all unknown paintings... lost works. Francis is out on the covered deck, which has potted trees and vines on trellises, talking through the doorway to Arthur in the sitting room.

"Those mud puddles were certainly a waste of money." said Francis while drinking wine, he doesn't appreciate modern art as much with all the cubism and abstract works. He prefers the more classical pieces of art from the baroque and rococo periods. "Those certainly wouldn't be fit to hang in the Louvre."

"You're wrong." Arthur said as he looked through a cubist portrait. "They're fascinating. Like in a dream... like magic. There's truth without logic. What's his name again... ?" he reads the name off the canvas. "something Picasso."

"Something Picasso…?" Francis said smugly as he came into the sitting room. "They'll never amount to a thing, trust me. At least they were cheap." Some men had entered their suit, bringing in more luggage and valuables, and in particular a safe. "Put that in the wardrobe." instructed the Frenchman.

Huffily Arthur enters to the bedroom, not taking more of the Frenchman's arrogance, with the large Degas of the dancers. He sets it on the dresser, near the canopy bed. A maid is already in there, hanging up some of Arthur's clothes.

"It smells so brand new m'lord.." said the maid. "Like they built it all just for us. I mean... just to think that tonight, when I crawl between the sheets, I'll be the first—"

Just then, Francis appears by the doorway of the bedroom over hearing them with a smug expression. "And when I crawl between the sheets tonight, I'll still be the first." He said while looking at Arthur. The maid blushed at the innuendo and excuses herself. Francis comes up behind Arthur and puts his hands on his shoulders. An act of possession, not intimacy. "The first and only. Forever."

Arthur's expression shows how bleak a prospect this is for him, now.

###

Later that day, at sunset, the Titanic stands silhouetted against a purple post-sunset sky. She is lit up like a floating palace, and her thousand portholes reflect in the calm French harbor waters. The 150 foot tender Nomadic lies-to alongside, looking like a rowboat. The lights of a Cherbourg harbor complete the postcard image. Back in the ship, entering the first class reception room from the tender are a number of prominent passengers. A woman with long hazelnut hair with a pink flower clip next to her ear comes up the gangway, carrying a suitcase in each hand, a spindly porter running to catch up with her to take the bags.

"Well, I wasn't about to wait all day for you, sonny." said the woman. "Take 'em the rest of the way if you think you can manage."

At Cherbourg a woman came aboard named Elizaveta Héderváry, but they all called her Elizabeth. History would call her the Unsinkable Elizaveta. Her husband had struck gold someplace out west, and she was what Roderich would call "new money".

###

By the next afternoon the ship had made its final stop and was now steaming west from the coast of Ireland, with nothing out ahead of them but the ocean...

The ship glows with the warm creamy light of late afternoon. Alfred and Feliciano stand right at the bow gripping the curving railing so familiar from images of the wreck. Al leans over, looking down fifty feet to where the prow cuts the surface like a knife, sending up two glassy sheets of water. The driven water flares higher at the bow as the ship's speed builds and the wind streams through Al's blonde hair.

"Hey look look look!" Alfred points down, his blue eyes wide in astonishment. "Look at that one jump! Whoohoo…!"

In the glassy bow-wave two dolphins appear, under the water, running fast just in front of the steel blade of the prow. They do it for the sheer joy and exultation of motion. The two friends watch the dolphins and grins. They breach, jumping clear of the water and then dive back, crisscrossing in front of the bow, dancing ahead of the juggernaut. The two friends then look forward across the Atlantic, staring into the sunsparkles.

"I can see the Statue of Liberty already." said Feliciano, making Alfred chuckle. "Very small... of course." indicating the size with his thumb and forefinger.

At the exhilaration of the moment, Alfred jumps onto the railing and holds onto one of the cables. He then raises his arms up into the air and shouts to the heavens.

"I'M THE KING OF THE WOOOORLD!"

He cheers and howls with his Italian friend joining in his cheering. "Whoohoo hoooo! Yee haaaw!"

The majestic ship glades over the crisp waters of the Atlantic, spreading waves in its wake as it sails to the west. Its funnels march past like pillars of heaven as the ship soared; it is black and severe in her majesty.

###

"Why're ships always bein' called "she"?" Elizaveta asked her company, the group assembled for lunch the next day. With Roderich, Arthur, Francis and the ship's Captain, Ludwig, in the Palm Court, a beautiful sunny spot enclosed by high arched windows. "Is it because men think half the women around have big sterns and should be weighed in tonnage?" she said and they all laughed. "Just another example of the men settin' the rules their way."

A waiter arrives to take orders for them then Arthur lights a cigarette. Francis was quick enough to take the smoke off his fiancée's lips and stubs it out.

"You know I don't like that, Arthur." said Roderich, warningly glaring at his son.

Francis smiles imploringly at Arthur then turns to the waiter. "We'll both have the lamb. Rare, with a little mint sauce. You like lamb, don't you mon amour?" He asked the young Englishman. Elizaveta watched the dynamic between Arthur, Francis and Roderich.

"So, you gonna cut his meat for him too there, Francis?" She butt in. The awkwardness seemed to have dawned on them so she turns to face the Captain. "Hey, who came up with the name Titanic? Was it you Ludwig?"

"Yes, actually. I wanted to convey sheer size. And size means stability, luxury... and safety— " the German Captain of the Titanic said rather modestly.

"Do you know of Dr. Freud?" Arthur suddenly spoke up. "His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you, Mr. Ludwig."

Francis chokes on his breadstick, suppressing laughter.

Roderich didn't find this amusing and grinds his teeth and hisses at his son. "My God, Arthur, what's gotten into— "

"Excuse me." Arthur stood up and stalks away.

"I do apologize." said Roderich a bit mortified by his son's rudeness.

"He's a pistol, Francis." Elizaveta commented. "You sure you can handle him?"

"Well, I may have to start minding what he reads from now on." The Frenchman said tensely but feigning unconcern.

###

Alfred sits on a bench in the sun on the Poop deck. Titanic's wake spreads out behind him to the horizon. He has his knees pulled up, supporting a leather bound sketching pad, his only valuable possession. With conte crayon he draws rapidly, using sure strokes, an emigrant from Manchester, and his 3 year old daughter standing on the lower rung of the rail. She is leaned back against his beer barrel of a stomach, watching the seagulls. His sketch captures them perfectly, with a great sense of the humanity of the moment. Al is good. Really good. Feliciano looks over Al's shoulder. He nods appreciatively.

Joining the duo was a scowling young Prussian emigrant, Gilbert Weillschmidt. He watches as a crewmember comes by, walking three small dogs around the deck.

"That's typical." The Prussian scoffed. "First class dogs come down here to take a shit."

"That's so we know where we rank in the scheme of things." said Al, looking up from his sketch.

"Pfft…Like we could forget." Gilbert crosses his arms and leans against the railing.

Alfred's eyes travel and glances across the well deck. At the aft railing of B deck promenade stands the handsome young haughty Englishman. For some reason Alfred was unable to take his eyes off of him. They are across from each other, about 60 feet apart, with the well deck like a valley between them. The rich young man on his promontory, and Alfred on his much lower one. Arthur stares down at the water somberly.

Al watches him take off his gloves and looks at the frilly absurd thing, then tosses it over the rail. It sails far down to the water and is carried away, astern. A spot of white in the vast ocean. Alfred is riveted by him. The rich young man looks like a figure in a romantic novel, sad and isolated.

Feliciano taps Gilbert and they both look at Alfred gazing at Arthur. The Italian and the Prussian grin at each other.

Arthur turns suddenly and looks right at Alfred's blue eyes. Al is caught staring, but he doesn't look away. Arthur does, but then looks back. Their eyes meet across the space of the well deck, across the gulf between worlds. Alfred sees another man, with long flowing shoulder length hair, come up behind him and take his arm. Arthur jerks his arm away. They argue in pantomime. He storms away, and the lewd looking man goes after him, disappearing along the A-deck promenade. Alfred stares after them.

"Forget it, boy." Gilbert said in mid snigger "You might as well like having angels fly out of your arse than get next to the likes of him."

Al turns back to his sketch and shrugs. "Who says I like men?"

Gilbert looks over to Feliciano then they both roll their eyes.

###

He saw his whole life as if he'd already lived it... an endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches... always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. He feels like he was standing at a great precipice, with no one to pull him back, no one who cared… or even noticed…

Arthur sits staring into space, his mind a whirl of turmoil and despair and yet his face never betrayed him. The young Englishman was flanked by people in heated conversation. Francis and Roderich are laughing together, while on the other side more aristocrats joined in on their chatter. He doesn't really hear what they are saying. Arthur is staring at his plate, barely listening to the inconsequential babble around him.

Underneath the table he was holding a tiny fork from his crab salad. He pokes the crab-fork into the skin of his arm, harder and harder until it draws blood.

That night Arthur stands in the middle of his room, staring at his reflection in the large vanity mirror. He just stands there, then-

With a primal, anguished cry he claws at his throat, ripping off his tie and he removes his cufflinks then throws them across the room. In a frenzy he tears at himself, his clothes, his hair... then attacks the room. He flings everything off the dresser and it flies clattering against the wall. He hurls a vase against the vanity, cracking it.

###

Arthur runs along the B deck promenade. He is disheveled and is crying while grinding his teeth in fury, his cheeks streaked with tears and his bushy eyebrows furrowed in anger with emotions he doesn't understand... hatred, self-hatred, desperation. A strolling couple watch him pass, shocked at the emotional display in public.

Alfred is kicked back on one of the benches gazing at the stars blazing gloriously overhead. Thinking artist thoughts and smoking a cigarette. Hearing something, he turns as Arthur runs up the stairs from the well deck. They are the only two on the stern deck. Arthur doesn't see him in the shadows, and runs right past him.

Arthur runs across the deserted fantail. His breath hitches in an occasional sob, which he suppresses. He slams against the base of the stern flagpole and clings there, panting. He stares his bright green eyes out at the black water. He then starts to climb over the railing, climbing clumsily. Moving methodically he turns his body and gets his shoes on the white-painted gunwale, his back to the railing, facing out toward blackness. 60 feet below him, the massive propellers are churning the Atlantic into white foam, and a ghostly wake trails off toward the horizon.

He leans out, his arms straightening... looking down hypnotized, into the vortex below him. His white long sleeved undershirt and scruffy blonde hair were lifted by the wind of the ship's movement. The only sound, above the rush of water below, is the flutter and snap of the big Union Jack right above him.

"Don't do it." a voice suddenly spoke behind him. Arthur whips his head around at the sound of Alfred's voice. It takes a second for his green eyes to focus.

"Stay back!" Arthur threatened. "Don't come any closer!"

Alfred sees the tear tracks on the other's cheeks in the faint glow from the stern running lights. He reaches out his arm and offers his hand. "Take my hand. I'll pull you back in."

"No! Stay where you are. I mean it. I'll let go." The English man threatened again.

"No you won't." Alfred said in dead seriousness.

"What do you mean no I won't?" Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. "Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me."

"You would have done it already. Now come on, take my hand."

Arthur is confused now. He can't see the other young man very well through the tears, so he wipes them with one hand, almost losing his balance. "You're distracting me. Go away."

"I can't. I'm involved now. If you let go I have to jump in after you." Alfred said, indicating the 'jump' with a jerk of his head over the railing.

"Don't be absurd… You'll be killed."

"Don't worry." Alfred said, taking his jacket off. "I'm a good swimmer." He then starts unlacing his left shoe.

"The fall alone would kill you." Arthur said in a way to convince the other to leave him alone.

"It would hurt." The American nodded, "I'm not saying it wouldn't. To be honest I'm a lot more concerned about the water being so cold."

Arthur looks down. The reality factor of what he is doing is sinking in. "How cold?

"Freezing." Al said plainly, "Maybe a couple degrees over." He now starts to unlace his right shoe. "Ever been to Wisconsin?"

"No." Arthur said, a bit perplexed.

"Well they have some of the coldest winters around, and I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls. Once when I was a kid me and my father were ice-fishing out on Lake Wissota... ice-fishing's where you chop a hole in the—"

"I know what ice fishing is! I'm not a bloody idiot." Arthur said irritatedly furrowing his eyebrows again.

"Sorry." Al said, "Just... you look like kind of an indoor guy. Anyway, I went through some thin ice and I'm tellin' ya, water that cold... like that right down there...?" his blue eyes glances over the railing again. "It hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can't breath, you can't think... least not about anything but the pain." He finished quite casually and takes off his other shoe, "Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in after you. But like I said, I don't see a choice. I guess I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here."

"You're crazy." The Englishman shook his head in disbelief.

"That's what everybody says. But with all due respect, sir, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship." said Al, sliding one step closer, like moving up on a spooked horse. "Come on. You don't want to do this. Give me your hand."

Arthur stares at this madman for a long time. He looks at his blue eyes and they somehow suddenly seem to fill his universe.

"Alright." He finally said. He unfastens one hand from the rail and reaches it around toward him. Al reaches out to take it, firmly.

"I'm Alfred Jones." said the American, locking his blue eyes with the other's green ones.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jones." replied Arthur with his voice quavering. "I'm Arthur Kirkland."

Arthur starts to turn. Now that he has decided to live, the height is terrifying. He is overcome by vertigo as he shifts his footing, turning to face the ship. As he starts to climb again, his pant leg gets in the way, and one foot slips off the edge of the deck.

Arthur plunges, letting out a piercing scream. Alfred, gripping his hand, is jerked toward the rail. Arthur barely grabs a lower rail with his free hand.

A Quartermaster up on the docking bridge hears the scream and heads for the ladder.

"HELP! HELP!" screamed Arthur.

"I've got you. I won't let go." assured Alfred.

Al holds the other's hand with all his strength, bracing himself on the railing with his other hand. Arthur tries to get some kind of foothold on the smooth hull. Alfred tries to lift the other man bodily over the railing. Arthur can't get any footing in his ripped pants and evening shoes, and he slips back. Arthur screams again.

Alfred, awkwardly clutching Arthur by whatever he can get a grip on as he flails, gets the other young man over the railing. They fall together onto the deck in a tangled heap, spinning in such a way that Alfred winds up slightly on top of Arthur.

The quartermaster slides down the ladder from the docking bridge like it's a fire drill and sprints across the fantail.

"Here, what's all this?" said the sailor in a thick British accent. He runs up and pulls Alfred off of Arthur, revealing him disheveled and sobbing on the deck. His pants and shirt were torn, and the hem is pushing up above his knees. He looks at Alfred, the shaggy steerage man with his jacket off, and the first class young man clearly in distress, and starts drawing conclusions. Two seamen chug across the deck to join them.

"Stand back! 'An don't move an inch!" the seaman points a gun at Alfred's chest at point blank then turns to the two other seamen. "Fetch the Master at Arms."

* * *

AN: Urghh… you guys are right.. this is taking too long and dragging. So I made this chapter a little longer to get everything in. I sure do hope you don't mind Hungary being Molly Brown and Ludwig as the Captain of the Titanic. XDD roflmao. I had to put Prussia in somewhere in there and opted to make him Tommy Ryan, Jack's Irish friend.

So so so, I heard joo gaiz want to change the ending? Hnn.. Would you like the ending to be different and make it happy? Or would you want me to stick with the depressing plot?

;D Tell me what you guys think!


	3. The Heart of the Ocean

Unsinkable

AN: Right so, this is where I start putting FICTION into this story. I shall do my best to weave these snippets perfectly into the main plot of the whole thing. I sure do hope I would not mess anything up by putting additional scenes here and there, so please be gentle and don't shout at me.

Disclaimer: D; Their all not mine. I'm not making money out of this capiche?

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Chapter III: The Heart of the Ocean

A few minutes later, Alfred was being detained by the master at arms, the closest thing to a cop on board. He handcuffs Al while Francis is right in front of Alfred looking furious. He has obviously just rushed out here with Vash Zwingly, his bodyguard and right hand man in toe. None of them have coats over their black tie evening dress. Colonel Antonio Cerrido, a man with an air of Spanish decent and carefree aura to him was with them. He offers some brandy to Arthur, who is hunched over on a bench nearby, but he waves it away. Francis is more concerned with Alfred. He grabs him by the lapels in his furiousness.

"What made you think you could put your hands on my fiancée?" barked the Frenchman. "Look at me, you filth! What did you think you were doing?"

"Francis, stop! It was an accident." interjected Arthur, who stood up from the bench.

"An accident?"

"It was... stupid really." He admitted. "I was leaning over the railing… and I slipped." Arthur looks at Al, getting eye contact. "I was leaning way over, to see the... ah... the.. propellers! And I slipped and I would have gone overboard... and Mr. Jones here saved me and he almost went over himself."

"You wanted to see the propellers?" asked Francis half amused.

"Ahh you see mi amigo?" said the Colonel, "Aristocrats and machinery do not mix."

Vash was glaring right at the American as if he were actually pointing a gun at him. "Was that the way of it?"

Alfred didn't know what to say until he glances over to Arthur who was begging him with his eyes not to say what really happened. "Uh huh. That was pretty much it." He looks at Arthur a moment longer… Now they have a secret together.

"Well! The boy's a hero then." said the Spaniard, "¡Muy bien muchacho! Well done." said Antonio, slapping Alfred on the back, "So it's all's well and back to our brandy, eh?"

At this Alfred gets uncuffed and Francis gets Arthur to his feet and moving, while rubbing his fiancée's arms "Let's get you in, mon cheri. You're freezing." The Frenchman drags Arthur away leaving without a second thought for Al.

"Ah... perhaps a little something for the boy?" called Antonio.

"Oh, right. Mr. Zwingly. A twenty should do it." He gestures to his right hand man to take care of things for him.

"Is that the going rate for saving the man you love?" said Arthur as if he was testing his fiancée.

"My Arthur is displeased. Mmm... what to do?" the Frenchman rubbed his stubble chin then turns back to Al. He appraises him condescendingly... a steerage ruffian, unwashed and ill-mannered. "Ah I know. Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow, to regale our group with your heroic tale?"

Al was looking straight at Arthur. "Sure. Count me in."

"Good. It's settled then." Francis turns to go, putting a protective arm around Arthur. He leans close to Cerrido as they walk away. "This should be amusing."

Al watched them pass until he bumps against the bodyguard. "Can I bum a cigarette?" asked Al.

With a slightly irritated huff, Zwingly smoothly draws a silver cigarette case from his jacket and snaps it open. Al takes a cigarette to his lips, then another, popping it behind his ear for later. Zwingly lights Al's cigarette.

"You'll want to tie those." The Swiss bodyguard gestured to Al's shoes. "Interesting that the young master slipped so mighty all of a sudden and you still had time to take off your jacket and shoes. Mmmm?" Zwingly's expression is bland, but the eyes are cold. He turns away to join his group.

###

Away from the commotion on the Stern, our Italian friend was having adventures of his own. Feliciano was getting bored when Alfred was away brooding. Their Prussian friend had managed to have a drinking session with some burly Irish men, leaving him all alone in their 3rd Class compartment. Feliciano could not take sitting still and feel the ship rock back and fourth as it moved. He stood up from his bunk and grabbed for his jacket, going through the compartment door and sets for his adventure.

He turns to his right on the E deck's halls and suddenly bumped into an exotic looking woman who looked Indian with her bronze skin and brightly colored clothes.

"Ahh… mi scusi, miss." Feliciano excused himself and with his smooth Italian gestures he makes way for her.

The one thing that made 3rd class so interesting from 1st and 2nd Class was that it was a melting pot of nations. Everyone coming as far from the Middle East, Eastern Europe, Nordic or Baltic, were all cramped in there in the lower decks of the majestic ship, while most English and French were in the Upper classes. You could clearly see the discrimination here.

Feliciano then continued on his way, his hands inside his pockets whistling a happy tune. He saw some porters taking out pillows and arranging life jackets a head of him so he ducks to his left where there was a niche. The Italian had not realized that there was a door there.

Steam had stuck itself on the glass of the porthole of the door obscuring what lies inside. The Italian smiled when he grabbed the handle of the door and sees that it was unlocked. The lady Fortuna had smiled upon him once again. His fratello Lovino back at home would seethe with envy once he would tell his tales of adventures on the Titanic in his letters.

Feliciano sneaked inside as he barely opened the door. Once inside, he latches the metal lock then looks around. It was a picture of hell itself. Sweaty men with white sleeveless shirts (that weren't quite so white anymore) were toiling and shouting at one another as they chucked white hot coals into burning furnaces. Feliciano had realized that he was in the Boiler Room, the very heart and life blood of the ship.

"Oh Dio mio…! Suo modo caldo…" Feliciano fanned himself and loosened his collar; he was already starting to sweat.

Black metal machines clink and clanked with a din right next to him as he observed. He suddenly jerked when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. "Oi, what you doin down' e're?"

"Non uccidermi! Per favore! Please don't kill me!" The Italian raised his hands in surrender and starts to cowardly panic when an Irish worker who towered above him had caught him sneaking. "I have relatives in Waxford."

The Irish man raised his eyebrow and let the whimpering Italian go. "I'm not gunna kill you." He said and pushed Feliciano to the other exit. "Go on then! You're not allowed down here. Silly foreigner…"

"Ahh Grazie!" he said, to his relief. The worker had pointed him to a metal ladder that lead to an upper door with a porthole when he stared up. Steadily, Feliciano started to climb up and up, occasionally slipping. It was taking him longer than it appeared. The heat of the boiler room was starting to make him uncomfortably hot and as farther as he ascended the heat started to slowly ebb away.

When he finally reached the metal door, he twisted the handle and swung it open. The cold crisp air of the Atlantic stung his face as his climbed out. He dusted himself from the soot and straightened up his jacket. Who knew that that exit would lead him out to the upper decks?

Few people were up here, most of them had gone to bed most probably. Feliciano continued on his stroll. Now that the black star filled sky was able to be seen and cool crisp air threading through his hair, it was almost relaxing. He starts whistling again until he bursts into a song about a Bolognese he can't forget.

3rd Class passengers weren't allowed to set foot on the upper decks especially at night so this time, Feliciano needed to be careful. Crew men patrolled the decks with German Shepherds on leashes. Before the dogs could even smell him, Feliciano ducked again and climbed another set of ladders to the A Deck Promenade. One of the patroller's flash lights barely missed the hem of his jacket. Once he landed, sweet music could be heard somewhere nearby with a soft noisy chatter and laughter. Glasses clinked merrily and a waft of roasted pork and sweet meats is faint in the air, indicating that the 1st Class dinner party was in full swig.

Feliciano listened, humming to the tune of the music. He walked on the promenade with a skip in his step. He then leaned against the wooden balcony of the deck and stares out into the water. There was nothing that separated the black glassy ocean and the vast inky black blanket of the sky with little pinpricks of stars. The waning moon above reflected upon the glassy waves of the Atlantic like a string of pearls.

He could see his breath fog in front of him every time he exhaled, so he cupped his hands to his mouth to keep them warm. The Italian did not notice that he wasn't alone on the deck anymore when there was a sudden tap on his shoulder. A snout of a dog sniffed his left calf making him stiffen his back then slowly turned around.

"Excuse me sir, but may I see your tickets?" said the crewman who was pointing a flash light at his face. The large dog started to growl at him and the only thing was keeping the animal from pouncing at the trespassing passenger was porter's hands that tightly gripped the leash.

"Ah si si…" Feliciano nodded and pulled his papers out from his breast pocket, wincing at the light being thrown at his face, then gives them to the crewman.

The sailor pointed his torch on the papers and read. "Hang on a minute…" he said in surprise, "You're from 3rd Class."

"uhh… eheheh…ve~" Feliciano rub the back of his head to feign innocence, knowing he was in a lot of trouble.

Then suddenly, dashed to the other direction, leaving the porter to yell after him. "Oi come back here!"

The dog barks and growls after him, he would not dare to look back. Feliciano could hear the crewman sound the blow of his whistle in the distance; he then knew he was going to have company soon. The whistle did not cease to blow as several other footsteps joined in the chase.

"After him! Quick!" someone yelled.

In his desperation, Feliciano managed to pick up more speed and run faster in his cowardice. He suddenly comes to a skid stop when he reached the end of the hall looking frantically at every direction. Luckily to his left there was another steel ladder. As quickly as he could he climbed up and landed clumsily onto the Boat Deck. He stood up and dusted himself and started running again. Feliciano ran past the Gymnasium and was able to jump over benches and deckchairs, sliding over railings and ducking at pipes. The air was getting colder around him as he ran and he could feel the tips of his fingers turn blue.

In the distance the whistles were still sounding and the dogs barking. The Italian was already far ahead of his pursuers but in his paranoia, he didn't stop from running. Feliciano was now close to the Bridge with another dead end. He slammed against the steel bulk balcony, and the bow of the ship was in view. To his right there was a door open. Without a seconded thought he went inside and closed the entrance, locking it firmly.

Feliciano heaved a sigh and slumped his back against the door. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his sweat on his forehead. The room he ran into blocked the sounds from outside and the only noise he could hear was his heavy panting and his heart beating in his chest that drummed in his ears. After he calmed and got his bearings again he noticed that the place was lined with shiny gold and silver levers and clear glass windows gave a majestic view of the Bow. At the center there was the heavy mahogany steering wheel.

Slowly and curiously, Feliciano took slow steps towards it, his hand reaching out… until he touches the helm.

"So you were the one creating all the commotion outside…?" A low voice said suddenly that Feliciano withdrew his hand as if it were burned.

He gasped and turned around to see who had spoken. Cold blue eyes looked at the Italian skeptically; arms crossed over a perfectly ironed white uniform with shiny gold buttons, blonde hair slicked neatly back and an expression on his face betraying nothing.

Captain Ludwig stood sternly, starring at the rumpled passenger of his ship. Feliciano was unable to speak and was too intimidated at the graceful authority figure who had caught him in the act. They were two contrasts, him donning on shabby bohemian clothes that indicated his free style of living and the Captain with his immaculate uniform of order and discipline.

The Captain presses a finger on his own lips and walked over to the door to check if it was securely locked. He then turns to the trespasser and walked around him. Feliciano felt like he was a prisoner and was finally caught under the scrutinizing gaze of the scary man…

Sensing the other's distress The Captain sighed and crossed his arms again. "At ease…" Ludwig said, in his smooth thick accent. "Do not worry; I will not turn you over to them. I'll tell them off if you'd like."

At this Feliciano's face brightened up into disbelief, then gratitude. "Ah Grazie mi Capitano!"

In his relief, Feliciano threw his arms over the Captain and in a friendly Italian gesture and pats the other on the back. Ludwig was caught off guard and did not expect the bodily gesture and he grunts. Feliciano had not realized that he was doing it unconsciously because of the way he was brought up. The young brunette smiles admiringly at the Captain.

"Now Feliciano owes you, eh?" he said. "If there is anything I can do to thank you mi Capitano I shall do it, to let me show my gratitude. I am in your debt."

"T-there is no need." said Ludwig, suppressing a blush "Think nothing of it, my boy… You are one of my passengers, yes?"

Feliciano nods.

"What have you done to cause such an upbringing among my crew?"

The Italian pouted a little and sighed. "I was merely bored, Signore… So I decided to explore the ship on my own." He said truthfully. "I had not known that there were other passages to the upper decks in my exploration and now… they are after me and I had done nothing to draw attention."

Ludwig walked over to the helm and caressed one of the handles of the wheel as if it were his most precious treasure. "I see…" he said "I could not blame you. This ship fills you with so much wonder does it not?"

"Si Signore," nodded the Italian as he steps closer to the Captain. "is beautiful an' majestic and I could not resist the temptation to see the wonders for myself. I feel that I should explore it now before we reach l'America. I might not get to have this opportunity again."

The Captain smiled at the boy, "I know what you mean, my boy. I feel the same way towards her."

Ludwig was looking forward to being alone on the wheel room that evening, he had not been expecting company. Usually he would be irritated when somebody ruins his alone time… but this… poor Italian passenger made him feel calm and now finally he could share some of his secrets to someone.

"Would you like to take a hold of it?" offered the Captain, gesturing his head on the wheel.

Feliciano's eyes widened. "Oh, may I Signore?"

The Captain nodded and stepped aside for this passenger, gesturing to the wheel. Feliciano then tentatively touches the two of the handles gently… then grips tighter.

"It feels… powerful." He said in a soft voice. The Captain touches the boy's shoulder with his gloved hand and smiled.

And this was the start of the beautiful friendship between the Captain of the Titanic… and an adventurous 3rd Class Italian passenger.

###

That night in their suite, as he undresses for bed Arthur sees Francis standing in his doorway, reflected in the cracked mirror of his vanity. He comes toward him.

"I know you've been melancholy," Francis said, unexpectedly tender, "and I don't pretend to know why." From behind his back he hands Arthur a large black velvet jewel case. The haughty young man takes it, numbly. "I intended to save this till the engagement gala next week. But I thought tonight, perhaps a reminder of my feelings for you mon cheri..."

Arthur slowly opens the box. Inside is a necklace... in all its glory. It is huge... a malevolent blue stone glittering with an infinity of scalpel-like inner reflections. "My God... Francis. Is it a-

"Diamond." They finished in chorus. "Yes it is. 56 carats."

He takes the necklace and during the following places it around his fiancée's throat. He turns him to the mirror, staring behind him.

"It was once worn by Louis the Sixteenth. They call it Le Coeur de la Mer, the—"

"The Heart of the Ocean." said Arthur, astonished "Francis, it's... it's overwhelming." He gazes at the image of the two of them in the mirror.

"It's for royalty." declared Francis, "And we are royalty." His fingers caress Arthur's neck and throat. He seems himself to be disarmed by Arthur's handsomeness. His emotion is, for the first time, unguarded. "There's nothing I couldn't give you." He said, kissing the nape of Arthur's neck softly, touching the pulse. "There's nothing I'd deny you if you would deny me. Open your heart to me, Arthur…"

Of course his gift was only to reflect light back onto himself, to illuminate the greatness that was Francis Bonnefoy. It was a cold stone... a heart of ice. After all these years, feel it closing around my throat like a dog collar. I can still feel its weight. If you could have felt it, not just seen it...

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AN: Sorry for my lack of facts about the parts of the ship. I'm doing all the research I can. D;

So how was it? To tell the truth, I fearing a bit about this, getting out of the plot somehow and stuff. :3 I hope I didn't disappoint anyone again. Do you guys think I should put in more? I think I'm going to install more surprises here and there. It'll make things more interesting.

Tell me what you guys think! 8D


	4. Two Worlds Apart

Unsinkable

AN: Ahhh.. Sorry sorry I haven't updated in a while. I was planning on submitting 1 chapter per day cuz I'm able to write a whole part in one night. Eheh… Buuuut unfortunately I was too busy with college work.. urgh. So.. sory for the delay. -bows-

Disclaimer: I wish I was a millionaire and buy Hetalia from Hidekaz~

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Chapter IV: Two Worlds Apart

Saturday April 13, 1912

Passing the end of the enclosed promenade, Arthur walks into the sunlight right in front of us. He is stunningly dressed and walking with a purpose. He looks like he hadn't felt the sunlight in years. Arthur unlatches the gate to go down into third class. The steerage men on the deck stop what they're doing and stare at him.

The social center of steerage life is stark by comparison to the opulence of first class, but is a loud, boisterous place. There are mothers with babies, kids running between the benches yelling in several languages and being scolded in several more. There are old women yelling, men playing chess, girls doing needlepoint and reading dime novels. Three boys, shrieking and shouting, are scrambling around chasing a rat under the benches, trying to whomp it with a shoe and causing general havoc. Alfred is playing with 5 year old Peter, drawing funny faces together in his sketchbook.

There is even an upright piano and Gilbert is noodling around it. Feliciano was following the Prussian, talking animatedly about what had happened to him last night and how he met the Captain.

"Eh…? No way. You've met the Captain?" said Gilbert skeptically. "And you got off the hook?"

"I tell the truth!" said the Italian trying to convince his friend.

"Riiiiight… hn, why don't you go an introduce me then?" he grinned, then suddenly, Gilbert's eye is caught by something, Feliciano looks and does a double take... and Alfred, curious, follows their gaze to see...

Arthur was coming toward them. The activity in the room stops... a hush falls. The Englishman suddenly feels self-conscious as the steerage passengers stare openly at this prince, some with resentment, and others with awe. He spots Alfred and gives a little smile, walking straight to him. Alfred rises to meet him, smiling.

"Hello Alfred." said Arthur with a slight smile.

Feliciano and Gilbert are floored. It's like the slipper fitting Cinderella.

"Hello again." said Al.

Arthur coughed and straightened himself up. "Could I speak to you in private?"

"Uh, yes. Of course." Al said dumbly, blinking. "After you."

Al motions for the other to go ahead and follows. The American glances over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised, as he walks out with him leaving a stunned silence.

***

On the Boat Deck Alfred and Arthur walk side by side, they pass people reading and talking in steamer chairs, some of whom glance curiously at the mismatched couple. Al feels out of place in his rough clothes. They are both awkward, for different reasons. There was a stagnant silence between them…

"Mr. Jones, I—"

"It's Alfred. Or Al… if you like."

"Alfred... I feel like such an idiot." Arthur started. "It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you."

"Well, here you are." said Alfred with a grin.

"Here I am." The rich youth was a little unsure of what exactly to say. "I... I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for... for pulling me back. But for your discretion."

"You're welcome. Arthur."

"Look, I know what you must be thinking…" Arthur's voice suddenly changed its tone. "Poor little rich boy. What does he know about misery?" _He must think I'm stupid…_ he thought, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"That's not what I was thinking," interjected Al "What I was thinking was... what could have happened to hurt this guy so much he thought he had no way out."

"I don't... it wasn't just one thing." Arthur continued. Alfred was still a little confused at what the aristocrat was trying to say to him. "It was everything….my whole world and everyone in it. And I was trapped, like an insect in amber. I just had to get away... just run and run and run... and then I was at the back rail and there was no more ship... even the Titanic wasn't big enough. Not enough to get away from them. And before I'd really though about it, I was over the rail. I was so furious. I'll show them. They'll be sorry!"

In his monologue, Arthur had furrowed his ever bushy eyebrows and clenches his fists into balls at his sides. His voice was shaking, but it never rose out of its timbre. Al was astonished that this man was still trying his best to have self control. He was obviously already loosing it because of the tremble in his voice.

"Uh huh. They'll be sorry." Al agreed, "'Course you'll be dead."

"All the while I'm just… standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs and no one even looks up." Arthur lowers his head. "Oh God, I am such an utter fool."

He shows Al his engagement ring. A thick gold band with a sizable diamond, it did not look feminine though and the ring was made as if it were to be given to a groom.

"Gawd look at that thing!" Al said, taking Arthur's hand for a closer look. "You would have gone straight to the bottom." They laugh together, hands still clasped. A passing steward scowls at Al, who is clearly not a first class passenger, but Arthur just glares at him away.

"So you feel like you're stuck on a train you can't get off 'cause you're marryin' this fella." Alfred concluded, letting go of Arthur's pale hand.

There was another awkward silence between them again. The warm afternoon breeze waft through their hair and quite a few seagulls up above were squawking.

"Do you love him?" Al finally asks all of a sudden.

"…Pardon me?"

"Do you love 'im…?"

"You're being very rude…" Arthur frowns at the American. "You shouldn't be asking me this."

"Well it's a simple question," said Alfred, who was looking at him seriously with his piercing blue eyes. "Do you love the guy or not?"

Arthur makes a slight sarcastic chuckle and looks away, "This is not a suitable conversation."

Al smiles and chuckles with him, leaning casually on the railing. "Why can't you just answer the question?"

"This is absurd!" Arthur starts to walk away and faces Al, "You don't know me, and I don't know you and we are not having this conversation at all." He looks at the American, glaring and furrowing his brows. "You are rude, and uncouth and presumptuous and and and… I am leaving now…" he declares.

He offers his hand to Alfred who was smiling all too knowingly and takes the offered hand and shakes it.

"Al…Mr. Jones, it's been a pleasure. I sought you out to thank you and now I _have_ thanked you—"

"And you've insulted me." The American pointed out, still smiling and still shaking hands with the Englishman.

"well… you deserved it." said Arthur, who was still unwilling to let go of Al's hand.

"Right."

"…Right."

And they shook hands… and they shook. They stared at each other, blue eyes boring into green. Al's blue ones were twinkling with their youth that Arthur just couldn't look away.

"I thought you were going…?" Al said, pointing out that Arthur was still holding a grip on his hand.

He lets go as if he was burned and laughs. "Oh, I am." And with that, Arthur turns around and walks away, but looks back at the American again. "You are so annoying!"

Alfred merely laughs as he watches him go.

The young Englishman stops dead on his tracks though. "Wait," Arthur said, just realizing something. "I don't have to leave. This is _MY_ part of the ship. _You_ leave."

"Oh ho ho ho, well well well. Now who's being rude." Al said in a sing song voice to tease the other.

"Uh!" Arthur splutters indignantly then Looks for another topic, any other topic, he spots Alfred's sketch book which he was carrying around and indicates it. "What is this stupid thing you're carrying around?"

The question is rhetorical because he has already grabbed the book. He sits on a deck chair and opens the sketchbook. Alfred's sketches... each one an expressive little bit of humanity: an old woman's hands, a sleeping man, a father and daughter at the rail. The faces are luminous and alive. His book is a celebration of the human condition.

"So what are you an artist or something?" His green eyes roam over one drawing to another with an approving nod. "They're quite good… They're _very_ good actually…" he had to agree. The drawing shows the very essence of humanity that they were very life like. "Alfred, this is exquisite work."

"Well, they didn't think too much of 'em in Paree." said the lanky American, slightly bastardizing the word 'Paris'.

Some loose sketches fall out and are taken by the wind. Al scrambles after them... catching two, but the rest are gone, over the rail.

"Oh no!" Arthur catches up with him and grips over the railing. "Damn it… Oh, I'm so sorry. Truly!"

"Well like I said… they didn't think too much of 'em in Paree." He shrugs and snaps his wrist, shaking his drawing hand in a flourish. "I just seem to spew 'em out. Besides, they're not worth a damn anyway." For emphasis he throws away the two he caught. They sail off.

"You're deranged!" wide green eyes follow the slips of paper flutter and land on the surface of the sea. He shakes off the feeling of regret and goes back to the book, turning a page. His eyes widen again at what he saw on the page…

"Well, well, well..."

He has come upon a series of nudes. Arthur is transfixed by the languid beauty the artist has created. His nudes are soulful, real, with expressive hands and eyes. They feel more like portraits than studies of the human form... almost uncomfortably intimate. Arthur blushes, raising the book as some strollers go by.

"And these were… drawn from life?" asked Arthur, trying to be very adult.

"Yup. That's one of the great things about Paris. Lots of girls willing take their clothes off."

He studies one drawing in particular, the girl posed half in sunlight, half in shadow. Her hands lie at her chin, one furled and one open like a flower, languid and graceful. The drawing is like an Alfred Steiglitz print of Georgia O'Keefe.

"You liked this woman." he half smiles at the other, indicating the sketches. "You used her several times."

Al smiles at him and shakes his head. "Nah, she's got beautiful hands see?" He points to a page where there were a series of beautiful feminine hands.

Arthur returns the smile and looks at the American, straight in the eye. "I think you must have had a love affair with her..."

"No, no!" Alfred laughed. "Just with her hands."

"You have a gift, Alfred. You do." The rich youth looks up from the book "You see people."

"I see you." Al said, his blue eyes looking intimately at his face. There it is. That piercing blue gaze again.

"And...?"

"You wouldn'ta jumped."

***

Back in the parlor, Roderich is having tea with the Captain and the Ship's owner and designer, Ivan Braginski. Roderich looks up and sees someone coming across the room and lowers his voice. "Oh no, that vulgar Hungarian woman is coming this way. Get up, quickly before she sits with us…"

Just then, Elizaveta Héderváry walks up, greeting them cheerfully as they are rising. "Hello, I was hoping I'd catch you at tea."

"We're awfully sorry you missed it." said Roderich, feign disappointment, "The Captain and we are just off to take the air on the boat deck."

"That sounds great. Let's go. I need to catch up on my gossip." said Elizaveta, not an ounce of her cheerfulness wavering.

"No," Mr. Braginski suddenly spoke up with a rather thick Russian accent and has not actually stood up from his chair. "I am drinkink vodka, I do not zink it will be wise forr me to stand up and walk just yet."

Roderich grits his teeth as the four of them took to their seats again. Elizabeth orders a cup of tea and settles in beside Roderich.

"So you've not lit the last fourr boilers then, comrade?" asked Ivan who turns to the Captain.

"No, but we're making excellent time." assured Ludwig.

Mr. Braginski frowns at the rather dismal response he got. "Captain, the press knows the size of Titanik, now I want dem marvel at her speed." He sits back on his chair after taking another practiced gulp of his vodka. "We must give dem somethink new to print." He waves his hands animatedly in front of him.

By this, the two passengers who were with them were suddenly in full attention. Roderich sipped on his tea while Elizaveta kept on looking back and fourth from Ivan and Ludwig.

"The maiden voyage of Titanik must make headlines." The ships owner lightly pounded his fist on the table at the last three words for emphasis.

"Mr. Braginski… I prefer not to push the engines until they've been properly run in." said Ludwig, who was trying not to disappoint his boss that this was the right thing to do. Obviously, Ludwig knows in himself what was best for his ship.

"Of course I leave it to your good offices to decide what's best, da? But what a glorious start to your first crossink if we get into New Yorrk Tuesday night and surprise dem all." There was a pregnant pause between them, the two passengers eagerly await the Captain's response.

Ludwig nods, stiffly.

***

Arthur and Alfred stroll aft, past people lounging on deck chairs in the slanting late-afternoon light. Stewards scurry to serve tea or hot cocoa. There was nothing that divided the sea and the sky before them as the clouds were painted in rich oranges and pinks and purples. Painted with orange light, they lean on the A-deck rail aft, shoulder to shoulder. The ship's lights come on. It was a magical moment... perfect.

"So then what, Mr. Wanderer Jones?" Arthur was engrossed in listening to Alfred's adventures as an artist.

"Well, then logging got to be too much like work," Al explained, rubbing the back of his neck, "so I went down to Los Angeles to the pier in Santa Monica. That's a swell place, they even have a rollercoaster. I sketched portraits there for ten cents a piece."

"A whole ten cents?!" said the Englishman, astonished. Back then 10 cents was already a high price.

"Yeah; it was great money... I could make a dollar a day, sometimes. But only in summer. When it got cold, I decided to go to Paris and see what the real artists were doing." The American finished.

Arthur nodded and looked out into the sea, looking rather thoughtful. "Why can't I be like you Al?…" he said with a sigh, "Just head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it." He turns to him in a rather sneaky crouch, "Say we'll go there, sometime... to that pier... even if we only ever just talk about it."

"No way, we'll definitely go there some time." Al reassured, "we're going. We'll drink cheap beer and go on the rollercoaster until we throw up and we'll ride horses on the beach... right in the surf... but you have to ride like a cowboy, none of that Equestrian stuff you rich people do."

"Can you show me?" Arthur's face was lighting up already at the prospect. "Teach me how to ride like a man."

"And chew tobacco like a meyn" Al said, playfully taking on a southern cowboy accent.

"And… spit like a meyn." Arthur imitated the accent and could hardly believe he was able to say that.

Al laughs at him, "What? They didn't teach you that in finishing school?"

"No." said Arthur, a bit embarrassed.

"Here, it's easy. Watch closely." He spits, the spitball arching out over the water. "Your turn."

Arthur screws up his mouth and spits. A pathetic little bit of foamy spittle which mostly runs down his chin before falling off into the water.

"Nope, that was pitiful." said Al, "Here, like this... you hawk it down... HHHNNNK!... then roll it on your tongue, up to the front, like thith, then a big breath and PLOOOW!! You see the range on that thing?" he pointed at how far his spitball could go.

Arthur goes through the steps and hawks it down. Alfred coaches him through it while doing the steps himself. The Englishman lets fly. So does Al. Two comets of gob fly out over the water.

"That was great!" said Al, while patting Arthur on the shoulder.

A cough was heard behind then, and the two boys turned, seeing a rather disappointed bespectacled man with the stern looking Captain and Elizaveta. They have been watching them hawking lugees the whole time and Arthur suddenly becomes composed.

"Father, may I introduce Alfred Jones." introduced Arthur.

"Charmed, I'm sure." said Roderich with an impatient blink.

Al has a little spit running down his chin, he doesn't know it. Elizaveta was grinning. The others were gracious and curious about the man who'd saved Arthur's life. But Roderich, his father, looked at him like an insect. A dangerous insect which must be squashed quickly…

"Well, Al, it sounds like you're a good man to have around in a sticky spot— " said the German Captain.

They all jump as a bugler sounds the trumpet meal call right behind them.

"Why do they insist on always announcing dinner like a damn cavalry charge?" commented Elizaveta, they all laughed, except for Roderich.

"Shall we go dress, father?" Arthur said, taking his father by the arm and walks towards their suite. He looks over his shoulder and waves at Alfred. "See you at dinner, Al."

The Captain bid his respectful excuse to see things on the ship, leaving Al and Elizaveta alone on deck.

"Son?" called the Hungarian rich woman. Al looked at her puzzledly "do you have the slightest comprehension of what you're doing?"

"Eheh…Not really." said Al, rather shy.

"Well, you're about to go into the snake pit." said Elizaveta, "I hope you're ready. What are you planning to wear?" she raised an eye brow, looking at Al's rumpled bohemian clothes.

Al looks down at his clothes then back up at her. He hadn't thought about that.

"I figured." She said, "C'mon, follow me."

***

In her suite, men's suits and jackets and formal wear are strewn all over the place. Elizaveta is having a fine time. Alfred is dressed, except for his jacket, and Elizaveta is tying his bow tie. "Don't feel bad about it. My husband still can't tie one of these damn things after 20 years. There you go."

She picks up a jacket off the bed and hands it to him. Alfred goes into the bathroom to put it on as Elizaveta starts picking up the stuff off the bed.

"I gotta buy everything in three sizes 'cause I never know how much he's been eating while I'm away." She said. She turns to see the American come out of the bathroom. "My, my, my... you shine up like a new penny."

She smiles and goes over to him to fix and straighten out the smart looking jacket. Al, looks at himself in the mirror.. it was hardly believable that he turned out quite good.

***

A purple sky, shot with orange burst in the west. Drifting strains of classic music were heard from the Boat Deck First Class entrance. Al was walking along the deck. By Edwardian standards he looks badass, with his blonde hair slicked back and dashing in his borrowed white-tie outfit, right down to his pearl studs.

A steward bows and smartly opens the door to the First Class Entrance for him. "Good evening, sir."

Al plays the role smoothly. He nods with just the right degree of disdain. He steps in and his breath is taken away by the splendor spread out before him. Overhead is the enormous glass dome, with a crystal chandelier at its center. Sweeping down six stories is the First Class Grand Staircase, the epitome of the opulent naval architecture of the time. And the people: the women in their floor length dresses, elaborate hairstyles and abundant jewelry... the gentlemen in evening dress, standing with one hand at the small of the back, talking quietly.

Alfred descends to A Deck. Several men nod a perfunctory greeting. He nods back, keeping it simple. He feels like a slick spy. He had not noticed that several of the women were eyeing this new handsome young faced gentleman. It's as if they were undressing him with their eyes.

Francis comes down the stairs, with Roderich on his arm. They both walk right past him, neither one recognizing him. Francis nods at him, one gent to another. But Al barely has time to be amused. Because just behind Francis and Roderich on the stairs was Arthur, a vision in black and jade green, the very color brings out those emerald eyes. Alfred is hypnotized by his handsomeness.

Arthur approaches Al. The American imitates the gentlemen's stance, hand behind his back. The Englishman extends his gloved hand and Al takes it, kissing the back of his fingers. Arthur flushes in surprise, Francis has never done that gesture to him before. He beamed noticeably. Al can't take his eyes off him.

"I saw that in a nickelodeon once, and I always wanted to do it." said Al, grinning.

"You could've just done that to a woman, I'm a man for goodness sake." whispered Arthur, but he was smiling all the while.

"It doesn't make any difference," said Al. He and Arthur, catch up to his Fiancée and father.

"Francis, surely you remember Mr. Jones?" said Art, touching his fiancée's shoulder.

Francis was caught off guard, his eyes widening. "Sacre bleu!! Jones! I didn't almost recognize you." The Frenchman studies him. "How astounding. You could almost pass for a gentleman."

As their company descends to the reception room on D Deck, they encounter Elizaveta, looking lovely in a beaded dress, in her own busty broad-shouldered way. Roderich's eyes did a double take and blinks at her, he couldn't take his eyes off her for some reason. She grins when she sees Al. As they are going into the dining saloon she walks next to him, speaking low:

"Ain't nothin' to it, Al" she said

Alfred nods, "Yeah, you just dress like a pallbearer and keep your nose up."

"Remember, the only thing they respect is money, so just act like you've got a lot of it and you're in the club."

As they enter the swirling throng, Arthur leans close to him, pointing out several notables. Francis, meanwhile, is accepting the praise of his male counterparts, who are looking at Arthur like a prize show horse. The entourage strolls toward the dining saloon, where they run into the Astor's going through the ornate double doors.

"J.J., Madeleine, I'd like you to meet Alfred Jones." introduced Arthur to the young rich couple.

"Good to meet you Alfred. Are you of the Boston Joneses?

"No, the uh… Chippewa Falls Joneses, actually." said Al.

J.J. nods as if he's heard of them, then looks puzzled. Madeleine Astor appraises Al.

In the dining salon, like a ballroom at the palace, alive and lit by a constellation of chandeliers, full of elegantly dressed people and beautiful music from Bandleader Wallace Heartley's small orchestra. Alfred and Arthur enter and move across the room to their table with Francis and Roderich beside them.

Alfred must have been nervous, Arthur thought, but he never faltered. They assumed he was one of them... a young captain of industry perhaps... new money, obviously, but still a member of the club. Roderich of course, could always be counted upon...

"Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Jones." said Roderich with a strained smile, "I hear they're quite good on this ship."

Alfred is seated opposite Arthur, who is flanked by Francis and Ivan Braginski. Also at the table are Elizaveta, Colonel Cerrido, and many other nobles and aristocrats.

"The best I've seen, sir." Al spoke, "Hardly any rats."

Arthur motions surreptitiously for Al to take his napkin off his plate.

"Mr. Jones is joining us from third class." said Francis, who was sipping from his champagne. "He was of some assistance to my fiancée last night."

"It turns out that Mr. Jones is quite the fine artist." Arthur spoke up. "He was kind enough to show me some his work today."

We see whispers exchanged. Alfred becomes the subject of furtive glances. Now they're all feeling terribly liberal and dangerous. A waiter comes by and bends over to take Alfred's order.

"How do you take your caviar, sir?"

"No caviar for me, thanks." said Al, brushing the waiter aside and looks straight at Francis. "Never did like it much." Alfred looks at Arthur, pokerfaced, and he smiles.

"And where exactly do you live, Mr. Jones?" Roderich insists on perusing his interrogation, but in a very well mannered way.

"Well, right now my address is the RMS Titanic. After that, I'm on God's good humor." Al answered. Salad is served. Alfred reaches for the fish fork but Elizaveta, who was sitting beside him gives him a look and picks up the salad fork, prompting him with her eyes. He changes forks.

"How is it you have the means to travel, Mr. Jones?" asked Roderich.

"I work my way from place to place. Tramp steamers and such. I won my ticket on Titanic here in a lucky handed at poker." Alfred glances at Arthur and smiles. "A very lucky hand."

"Si. All life is a game of luck." said Colonel Cerrido.

"A real man makes his own luck, Antonio." said Francis. "Isn't that right, Monsuire Jones?"

Al nods at him.

"And you find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?" asked Roderich again. Elizaveta was glaring at Roderich at the rather rude question.

"Well... yes sir, I do." Said Al, who was pausing for a while, to think of the right words to say. "I mean, I got everything I need right here with me. I got air in my lungs, and a few blank sheets of paper. Man I love wakin' up in the morning never knowing what's gunna happen," He pauses to take a bite off his dinner bread and talks with his mouth full, "or who I'm gunna meet… Where I'm gunna wined up. Just the other night, I was sleeping under a bridge… And now here I am, on the grandest ship in the world having champagne with you fine people." They chuckle at Alfred's truthful words.

A waiter comes to fill Alfred's wine glass and he raises it to him. "I'll take some of that."

"I figured life's a gift," Al continued. "And I don't intend on wasting it. You never know what hand you're gunna get dealt with next. You'll learn to take life as it comes at you… To make each day count."

Elizaveta raises her glass in a salute. "Well said, Alfred."

"Here, here." said Mr. Braginski, rising his personal bottle of vodka.

Arthur raises his glass, looking at Al. "To making it count." And everyone around the table raises their glass and drinks.

Roderich, annoyed that Alfred has scored a point, doesn't press him further.

***

As the dinner wore on, dessert has been served and a waiter arrives with cigars in a humidor on a wheeled cart. The men start clipping ends and lighting.

"Next it'll be brandies in the Smoking Room." Said Arthur in a low voice so that Alfred could only hear.

"Well, join me for a brandy, gentlemen?" said Francis, who was rising from his seat.

"Now they retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe." Arthur whispers still, but you could clearly see the sarcasm in his hisses.

"Joining us, Jones?" asked Francis, "You don't want to stay out here with the women, do you?" he chuckles and takes a cigar.

"No thanks. I better be heading back." Alfred said courteously.

"Ah, Probably best." nodded Francis. "It'll be all business and politics, that sort of thing. Wouldn't interest you. Good of you to come." He turns to his fiancée. "Come along now mon cheri."

"No, I'll stay here." Arthur doesn't follow Francis and the other gentlemen exiting to the smoking room, not wanting to socialize with other said gentlemen in a cloud of noxious smoke. He turns to Al and grabs his arm. "Alfred, must you go?"

"Time for my coach to turn back into a pumpkin." said Al, he leans over to take Arthur's hand and kisses it. Once their hands slipped apart, a slip of paper was on Arthur's palm. And Al was already walking away. Roderich, scowling, watches Alfred walk away across the enormous room. Arthur surreptitiously opens the note below table level. It reads:

"_Make it count. Meet me at the clock_".

****

Arthur crosses the A-Deck foyer, sighting Alfred at the landing above. Overhead is the crystal dome. Al has his back to him, studying the ornate clock with its carved figures of Honor and Glory. It softly strikes the hour. Arthur goes up the sweeping staircase toward him. Al turns, sees him... and smiles.

"So, you wanna go to a real party?"

* * *

AN: -dies out of the length and wandering of this effing chapter- Urgh… Slow chapter is slow. But I made it longer cuz I wasn't able to update as soon and I didn't want to leave you guys hanging. And yaaaaay~ Ivan's there now. 8'D If you guys noticed I merged his character with Mr. Andrews and Mr. Ismay… cuz I'm running out of perfect character slots already. :/ And I'm trying not to make everything sound so completely retarded in this story. ^^;

If you guys are asking if Sealand was the little boy Alfred was playing with at the beginning of the chapter then you are correct. XD It's _is_ Peter Kirkland.

Anymore questions? Suggestions? Violent reactions?

8'D You guys ask me anything and tell me what you think! Ciao~


	5. Star Crossed

Unsinkable

AN: Uwaaah! D8 Gomenasaaaai! ;w; Sorry I haven't updated soon guys. Recently there has been a storm and I can't get any internet.. (pffft… fuck broadband) Anyhoo~ here I am, giving you another chapter. 8'D Imma go write a lot more snippets here for the other blooming parings. Ermm.. but unfortunately I won't be able to tell in detail how deep the relationships between each character are other than Al and Arthur, cuz I mean c'mon they're the lead characters here. XD

And now without further ado~

Disclaimer: I'd be hit by an iceberg if I told you guys I own Hetalia. B/

* * *

Chapter V: Star Crossed

The Third Class General room is crowded and alive with music and laughter and raucous carrying on. An band is gathered near the upright piano, honking out lively stomping music on fiddle, bagpipe, accordion and tambourine. People of all ages are dancing, drinking beer and wine, smoking, laughing, even brawling. Gilbert hands Arthur a pint of stout and he hoists it. His jade green dinner coat was discarded on a chair near by and his bowtie is already untied. Alfred, whose hair was already out of its slickness, meanwhile dances with 5 year old Peter, or tries to, with him standing on his feet. As the tune ends, Arthur leans down to the little boy.

"May I cut in?" Arthur said with a smile while ruffling the boy's hair. Peter scowled at him with equally bushy eyebrows and looks up at Al. The American smiled down at him and the boy smiled back and scampers off.

"You're still my best man, Pete." Alfred called after the kid.

Alfred and Arthur face each other. The Aristocrat is trembling as Alfred takes his right hand in his left, his other hand slides to the small of Arthur's back. It is an electrifying moment.

"I don't know the steps." blurted Arthur, who doesn't seem to be thinking what he was saying.

"Just move with me." Alfred reassured. "Don't think."

The music starts and they are off. A little awkward at first, Arthur starts to get into it. He grins at Alfred as he starts to get the rhythm of the steps.

"Wait... stop!" said Arthur. He bends down; pulling off his shoes, and flings them to Gilbert who caught them by surprise. He then grabs Al and they plunge back into the fray, dancing faster as the music speeds up.

The scene is rowdy and rollicking. A table gets knocked over as a drunk crashes into it. In the middle of the dancing crowd, Arthur dances with Al. The people around them were all a blur as they moved. The steps are fast and Arthur's cheeks shine with sweat. A space opens around them, and people watch them, clapping as the band plays faster and faster. The tune ends in a mad rush. Alfred steps away from Art with a flourish, allowing him to take a bow. Exhilarated and slightly tipsy, he does a graceful bow, feet turned out perfectly. Everyone laughs and applauds. It seems Arthur is a hit with the steerage folks, who've never had an aristocrat party with them.

They both move to a table, flushed and sweaty. Arthur grabs Gilbert's cigarette from his lips and takes a big drag. He's feeling cocky and Gilbert grins at him. The Prussian walks up with a pint for each of them. Arthur chugs his, showing off. The men around them stared at him as if they haven't seen a rich man chug down a pint.

"What…?" He said when he finally came up for air from his glass. "You think a first class bloke can't drink?" they all laugh, patting Arthur on the back.

Everybody else is dancing again, and suddenly a drunken Danish man crashes into Gilbert, who sloshes his beer over Arthur's white under shirt. He laughs, not caring. But Gilbert lunges, grabbing the drunken man and wheeling him around.

"You stupid bastard!!" The Prussian barked; his fist in the man's collar. The Danish man comes around, his fists coming up as if holding an axe... and Alfred leaps into the middle of it, pushing them apart.

"Boys, boys!" he said, flailing his arms at them, "Did I ever tell you the one about the Prussian and the Danish goin' to the whorehouse?"

Gilbert stands there, all piss and vinegar, chest puffed up. Then he grins and claps the man who came from Denmark on the shoulder.

"So, you think you're big tough men?" piped Arthur all of a sudden, who was already a bit tipsy. "Let's see you do this."

With one swipe of his arm he clears a wooden table of all the tumblers, pitchers, cards and coins and settles his elbow on top of it in an arm wrestle stance. He raises his eyebrow at all of them as if asking for a challenge. Alfred then smoothly took his seat and clasped his hand to the others, his blue eyes accepting the challenge. Arthur's green eyes falters, but he grins at the American anyway. The crowd around them cheered and watched as the arm wrestling began.

They start, their clasped hands shaking as each of the men forces their strength to the other's hand. Arthur's hand was slightly slipping and leaning as he grits his teeth. He glares at the American with is piercing green eyes but Al's blue ones were cool and calm.

Arthur was not for one to back down so he doubles his strength and pressure onto Alfred's hand, making his lean with the sudden force. The crowd cheered at the sudden change of circumstance… and before you know it, the back of Alfred's hand hit the wooden table's surface. The crowd gave a whoop and a howl as bills and coins passed and slipped from hand to hand. Gilbert looked pissed and hands Denmark a bill.

Alfred massages his hand and laughs. "I guess I shoudn't've underestimated you." He said to Arthur while smiling.

Arthur puffs his chest proudly, "Heh, you must never underestimate your enemy."

"You're not even my enemy." The American pointed. They both laugh as Alfred offers his hand to Arthur and pulls him up. Arthur stumbles onto Al's chest and they stare at each other.

The door to the well deck opens a few inches as Vash Zwingly watches through the gap. He sees Alfred holding Arthur, both of them laughing. The Swiss bodyguard was glaring daggers at the blonde American and slowly closes the door.

"Hey, has anybody seen Feliciano?" Gilbert asked. "Oi Al!" he waved at Alfred and Arthur who were dancing in the middle of crowd again, "I'm gonna go look for Felli okay?" he shouted across the room.

Alfred gave him a thumbs up as he twirled Arthur into a dip. The Englishman half blushed and half scowled at the American who laughed. Gilbert made his way to the door, passing rowdy drunken men and women singing the Irish drinking song "Oh, aidie aidie aidie".

He finally sneaks out the door and straightened himself out, from the rowdiness of the party. His pale blonde hair was still as messy as ever though, and his rumpled clothes still retained their rumpledness no matter how much he straightened them out… but it'll have to do.

"Heh," He scoffed and grinned as he marches down the hall, grazing his thumb to his nose. "Feliciano isn't the only one who can have an adventure…"

***

"And that to your right is the North Star." Ludwig pointed out to the sky for the Italian boy beside him and hands a retractable telescope to Feliciano.

"Ooh~ It's not that bright." said the Italian, a bit pouting while looking through the eye piece. "And it's small too."

The Captain chuckles and places a gloved hand onto the boy's shoulder. "It doesn't have to be bright and big to say a star is significant in the sky."

"Ve~ I see." Feliciano lowers the telescope and hands it back to the Captain. "You know so much about the sky mi Capitano… Can you name all of the stars?"

"Well, I can't exactly name all of them Feliciano, for there are billions of stars in the sky." Ludwig said calmly, while leaning on the wooden rail on the deck. They were the only two people on the Bridge. "But a sailor must know enough, to know where's he's headed."

Feliciano nodded and swings his leg casually at the balcony. "You know Signore, you remind me of this childhood friend I had. He likes to look at the stars a lot too…"

"Is that so?" Ludwig raises an eyebrow.

"Si." He nods "He scares me a lot and he thought I was a girl when we were little…he always told me he wanted to be a sailor, just like you, Capitano." Felciano looks over to the inky black horizon, his hair curl gently touching his cheek with the wind. "…But I never knew his name… and I don't know where he is now."

"Hnn… friends come and go I guess." The Captain said quietly.

Feliciano, brings up his collar to his neck and breathes on his palms. The Atlantic wind blew a cold breeze gently around them, their breaths fogging in front of their lips as they exhaled. Ludwig glances over to Feliciano and slowly unbuttons his black official White Star Line trench coat. He takes it off and puts it over Feliciano's shoulders, who suddenly tenses when he felt the coat draped on him.

"Maybe this will keep you warm." whispered Ludwig, as he straightened out the coat on the other's shoulders. At this Feliciano relaxes and scoots closer to the Captain for warmth.

"Ah, grazie mi Capitano." The Italian smiled warmly at the German. "Ve~ Capitano is so kind and caring and Feliciano learns a lot from him."

Ludwig blushed at the complement as he stared into the Italian's warm brown eyes. He looked away and stumbles over his words. "Please, call me Ludwig."

Felicano looked at him in surprise and curiosity. "Alright… Ludwig." He said, saying the name carefully as he smiled and nodded.

The Captain turns back at the boy, his cold blue eyes staring into brown. For a long moment they just stared, not saying a word, their breaths fogging in between their lips… Slowly, Ludwig's head leans down, and Feliciano leans up—

"Oh! There you are!" A voice suddenly cut through the air. Feliciano and Ludwig broke their gaze and turned to look at the one who spoke. "We've been looking all over for you."

***

"Oh, where on earth _did_ that boy run off to…?" Roderich was practically fuming on his seat while he twisted his napkin on his lap. He was getting impatient when Arthur told him that he would be back in just a moment to set that filthy uneducated American off.

"Will you calm down Roderich," Elizaveta said, who had taken the seat beside him when everyone left for the brandy room. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Arthur's a grown man already. Can't you at least trust your son for once?"

"I do trust my son, Elizaveta…" the Aristocrat said. "It's that American I don't trust."

And with that he stood up, almost making the dessert plate and the wine glass in front of him topple over. Elizaveta had to roll her eyes and rises from her seat too. Roderich made a bee line for the double doors across the threshold of the large dinning room, waving to a few gentlemen and ladies whom he came across and giving them a hurried excuse while Elizaveta tailed after him.

"Why must you go after them Roderich, wouldn't that be spying? Arthur just found a new friend in Alfred." the Hungarian woman whispered beside him as they sweep up the grand staircase. "It's none of our business."

"Well, my dear Elizaveta, it's my son's engagement on the line." He said irritably. _Why won't this woman understand?_ "It is very well my business."

Elizaveta shrugs as they land onto the A-Deck, a steward opens the door for them and they step into the cold Atlantic air into the promenade. A few of the dinner goers were already outside, strolling along the deck chairs while the lights cast a warm glow on the wooden floorboards. It was a romantic atmosphere.

Roderich looks to his left and right. Where would the entrance to the 3rd Class be?

"This way." He said, pulling on Elizaveta's gloved hand down the promenade to the gates that lead to decks C and D. Like a perfect gentleman that he is, Roderich escorted her down the steel stairs until they reach the landing. They pass a steward and asked for directions.

"You there," Roderich called to him. "can you point us to the direction where the 3rd Class General room is?"

"What's your name sonny?" Elizaveta asked the steward cheerfully, as she clung onto Roderich's elbow.

"Oh, uhm… My name is Torris ma'am," the crewman looked at them curiously as if asking why would Aristocrats so grandly dressed as them would want to go down into 3rd class. "Right this way sir, follow me." He led them down to an elevator lift that went to the lower decks of the ship.

"Torris!" the elevator man waved at the steward cheerfully.

Torris smiled at his friend and waved back reluctantly. "We'll talk later Feliks."

"To 3rd Class please." Roderich ordered stiffly as they entered the lift, ignoring the exchange between the two men.

"Err… yes sir, right away sir." the Polish elevator man said as he closed the metal cage and pulls the lever. With a jerk they descended two floors down and with a 'ting' the elevator cage opens for them to the E Deck halls.

"You can't be serious that Alfred would bring him down here, Roderich." said Elizaveta, looking down the hall.

"I would never associate myself with such commoners Elizavata," said Roderich. "I would never lower myself to their level not unless it is _this_ important." He pulled on her arm once more and led her to walk, "Now come along, we have to find Arthur."

Just then, Gilbert's ears perked up at the sound of his friends' names. He saw the two aristocrats walking down the hall, a bespectacled man and a finely dressed woman. These must be the people that made Arthur look so miserable he thought. Smoothly, Gilbert swaggers over to them while slicking back his hair.

"You two seem to be lost," he said cockily, "Is there anything I could help you with?"

Roderich's lips were pressed in a thin line as he glared at the dirty irritating ruffian. He looked at him as if he were trash, judging him with his unwashed clothes. Elizaveta on the other hand smiled at him and asked cheerfully. "Oh yes, you see were looking for a young man with blonde hair and very bushy eyebrows… and a bit of a potty mouth. Have you seen him anywhere, kind sir?"

Gilbert raised an eyebrow… so they _were_ looking for Arthur. Heh, maybe if he led them away he'd be doing the Englishman a favor… 'sides Alfred seemed smitten by him and they haven't even gotten laid yet. So, being the good friend that he is, he hatched up a quick plan.

"Bushy eyebrows you say? Hmm…" Gilbert lied. "Oh, how rude of me. Let me introduce myself first." He rubbed his hand on his pant leg and takes Elizaveta's gloved hand and kisses it. "My name is Gilbert Weillschmidt. At your service."

Elizaveta giggled at him while Roderich glared daggers. "Yes yes alright, enough of this nonsense. Have you or have you not seen my son?"

_His son?_ Gilbert's eyes looked at the attractive bespectacled man closely, he looked to young and handsome to have a son as old as Arthur.. "Your son? Oh, I see… well then I shouldn't keep you and your wife from your search then."

"She's not my wife," _you idiot_, Roderich was so tempted to add, but he bit his tongue.

"No no, we're not married." Elizaveta said. "Although, I do have a husband back at home. Roderich here is single and widowed." She said suggestively while nudging Roderich towards the Prussian.

The Aristocrat sighed. "Alright, look could you just _please_ tell us where the boy went?" he said in an exasperated tone, knowing a headache will come soon.

"Of course…" Gilbert smiled at him, his fierce reddish eyes boring into Roderich's "right this way sir, ma'am. I believe they passed here."

Gilbert led them down the hall, away from the party at the Well Deck. They climbed a set of stairs and landed on D Deck. The Prussian made a show of touring the two of them around the ship, indicating the awesome paneling and the awesome architecture and the awesome engineering of the ship. He flailed his arms and saluted passing stewards and crewmen who looked at him as if he were a mad man. Roderich was having none of this and was tugging on Elizaveta's sleeve to ditch the crazy Prussian.

Elizaveta on the other hand was enjoying herself, laughing at Gilbert while he made funny gestures and witty compliments. Of course she new the Prussian was lying, but she acted as if she believed every word. She thought this would be a great opportunity for Roderich to be distracted while Alfred and Arthur have their time together, so she played along. Roderich was trying to steer them away but she kept her vice like grip on his arm and followed their _"tour guide"_ until the reach the Boat Deck again.

"It's getting late." interjected Roderich after looking at his pocket watch. "Perhaps my son has already gone back to our suite."

"Oh nonsense Roderich, we haven't even seen half of the ship yet." said Elizaveta.

"Ahh, she's right sir." said Gilbert "we haven't even seen the Wheel Room." He said as the turned the corner on a deserted looking deck around the Bridge.

"Oh enough of this bollocks!" said Roderich, who finally wrenches his hand away from Elizaveta. "I am merely looking for Arthur. I can't waist my time for this." Roderich has reached the end of his patience and shouted. He got even more frustrated when the two of them weren't even listening to him because ahead of them, Gilbert saw two figures huddled together in a silhouette and started to jog over to them.

"Oh! There you are." The Prussian called. "We've been looking all over for you."

The Captain and Feliciano turned from the wooden railing and saw Gilbert skipping towards them. Feliciano's face brightened up and waved at his friend. "Ahh! Gilbert it's you!"

The Captain raised a finely chiseled eyebrow. "Gilbert?"

"Si si!" he nodded enthusiastically at the Captain and beckoned his friend to come over. "See? I told you! I told you I was telling the truth Gilbert." He said pulling on the Prussian's sleeve when he finally reached them. "Mi Capitano, I would like you to meet my friend Gilbert Weillschmidt. Gilbert this is Captain Ludwig."

"Yo." Gilbert said in a friendly manner and offers his hand to the Captain, which he took. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you sir." Ludwig looked a bit strained when he shook the Prussian's hand. He was clearly irritated at the interruption.

"Oh, Captain Ludwig… no wonder you weren't at the dinner party tonight." Roderich came up from behind the three of them looking dignified again, with Elizaveta on his arm.

"Who's your funny friend there Gilbert?" she asked.

"This is Feliciano." Gilbert said, grabbing the Italian's shoulders. "He's Alfred Jones' best friend."

"Please to meet you, Signorina." Feliciano bowed. Elizaveta smiled at him but Roderich was glaring another set of daggers for the Italian… If he's that American's friend then he can't be trusted either.

"I didn't know you like having friends from the steerage Captain." snapped Roderich.

"We just met yesterday." said Ludwig.

"We were just admiring your ship, sir." Gilbert said to the Captain, tapping the ship's railing and trying to engage him into a conversation, "having a bit of a tour."

The Captain looked at all four of them, a little sternly than when he was alone with Feliciano. "I see Mr. Weillschmidt. I guess you can never stop admiring her beauty." He said proudly as he pulls out his pocket watch to check the time. "Well, it's only 10 minutes till lights out gentlemen, lady. We better get back to our cabins then. There will be an official tour of the ship tomorrow morning after mass."

"I see." Roderich said. "We shall look forward to that then. Come along now Elizaveta. Let's get back to our quarters. Good evening to you all."

"But—" She didn't have time to interject because she was already dragged away from the company. She didn't even get to say goodbye to their new Prussian friend. Roderich just wanted to get away from the unwashed ruffians and doesn't even glance back. Gilbert waved at them good heartedly as they went off.

"Ve~ must we go Capinato – I mean Ludwig?" asked the Italian, who clung to the Captain's sleeve.

"I believe we must, Feliciano." said the Captain. "I have more pressing matters to attend to tomorrow morning."

"Oh alright." Feliciano pouted sadly and gave the Captain back his trench coat.

And with that, Ludwig tips his hat and bid his good night at the two of them then goes to the other direction towards the Bridge room. Feliciano watch him go and turn the corner until the slip of the Captain's trench coat was gone.

Gilbert patted the Italian's shoulder gently and got him out of his revere. "C'mon Felli, Alfred's waiting for us."

***

An hour passed after lights were out, the stars blaze overhead, so bright and clear you can see the Milky Way. Arthur and Alfred walk along the row of lifeboats. Still giddy from the party, they are singing a popular song "Come Josephine in My Flying Machine".

"_Come Josephine in my flying machine_

_And it's up she goes! Up she goes!_

_In the air she goes. Where? There she goes!"_

They fumble the words and break down laughing. They have reached the First Class Entrance, but don't go straight in, not wanting the evening to end. Through the doors the sound of the ship's orchestra wafts gently. Arthur grabs a davit and leans back, staring at the cosmos.

"Isn't it magnificent?" he said while staring up at the sky "So grand and endless." he goes to the rail and leans on it. "They're such small people, Al... my crowd. They think they're giants on the earth, but they're not even dust in God's eye. They live inside this little tiny champagne bubble... and someday the bubble's going to burst."

Alfred leans at the rail next to him, his hand just touching his. It is the slightest contact imaginable, and all either one of them can feel is that square inch of skin where their hands are touching.

"You're not one of them." said Al "There's been a mistake."

"A mistake?"

"Uh huh. You got mailed to the wrong address."

Arthur laughed, his green eyes twinkling "I did, didn't I?" Arthur suddenly gasped and pointed up at the sky "Look! A shooting star."

"Whoa that was a long one." said Alfred, his voice almost a whisper. "My father used to say that whenever you saw one, it was a soul going to heaven."

"I like that." Arthur whispered back "Aren't we supposed to wish on it?"

Alfred looks at him, and finds that they are suddenly very close together. It would be so easy to move another couple of inches, to kiss him. Arthur seems to be thinking the same thing.

"What would you wish for?" Alfred asked. They stare at each other, their breath touching the petals of their lips…After a heart beat, Arthur pulls back… the kiss never happened.

"Something I can't have." Arthur said somberly and smiles sadly. "Goodnight, Al. And thank you." he leaves the rail and hurries through the First Class Entrance.

"Arthur…!" Alfred calls after him, but the door bangs shut, and he is gone. Back to his world.

* * *

AN: Ahhh.. another chapter done. This would probably be the cheesiest chapter I will ever write in the whole of this story. Sorry if some parts look a bit hurried. I've omitted a lot of parts to prevent redundancy and a lot of useless details. Wahh I hope I didn't confuse anybody. Heh. 60% of this chapter is not from the movie 8'D wow… I hope I didn't ruin anything for you guys! I'm sorta loosing the interest to write... I need more motivation!

Do you guys want me to make more of these side stories? Or would you rather I just get on with it and get it done? XDD It's up to YOU.

Tell me what you guys think! Ciao~ 8'D


	6. Portrait

Unsinkable

AN: Hey gays. Here's another chapter for ya. Thank you thank you for the reviews everyone! Somehow they motivated me to still continue writing despite my current situation with my college life. I'm trying not to give myself a hard time in telling this story. Here's the part that you lot have all been waiting for! (I think…) XDDD thus this chapter will be USxUK centric. I hope I do not disappoint anyone and I will try to tell it beautifully as I can. -crosses fingers for luck-

Ok, enough chit chat… ON TO THE STORY!

Disclaimer: If I owed Hetalia from the very beginning… THERE WILL BE EXPLICIT WORLD GAY ORGY.

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Chapter VI: Portrait

Sunday; April 14, 1912…

A bright clear day, the sky out side is clearly blue and not a strip of land is in sight within of thousands of miles in vast stretch of ocean. The Titanic makes her steady procession to the west as the sun had just risen in the east. Sunlight splashed across Francis and Arthur's suite promenade. The two of them are having breakfast in silence… The tension between them is palpable. Vash Zwingly, Francis' right hand man and butler, pours the coffee and goes inside.

Francis, who was impatiently forking his scrambled eggs, has not made eye contact with Arthur whose green eyes were set on his breakfast plate. The Frenchman sets his fork down and puts his fingers under his chin then puts his elbows on the table while observing his fiancée eat his food.

"I had hoped you would come to me last night." Francis finally spoke up from the warm silence they were in.

Arthur made a sort of sighing sound and doesn't look up at Francis. "I was tired."

"Yes," said Francis, as if testing troubled waters "Your exertions below decks were no doubt exhausting."

At this, Arthur's back stiffened against his chair and he almost drops his fork. "I see you had that undertaker of a manservant follow me." He said stiffly, pertaining to Vash Zwingly.

Francis frowned at him and tries to keep his voice from rising, "You will never behave like that again… Do you understand?" he said slightly leaning forward on the breakfast table.

"I'm not some foreman in your mills that you can command!" Arthur snapped back at him, dropping his napkin on the table top. "I am your fiancée—"

Unexpectedly, the usually calm and cultured Frenchman explodes, sweeping the breakfast china off the table with a crash. He moves to Arthur in one shocking moment, glowering over him and gripping the sides of the Englishman's chair, so he was trapped between his arms.

"Yes! You are!" Francis barked at his face. "And my spouse… in practice, if not yet by law." Francis locked eyes with him, a sign he does to imply that he was serious. "So you will honor me, as a spouse is required to honor his husband! I will not be made out a fool! Is this in any way unclear?"

Arthur looked like he was about to retort something, with his emerald eyes glaring piercingly at the other, but he shrinks into the chair and looks away. He sees one of their maids, frozen, partway through the door bringing the orange juice. Francis follows Arthur's glance and straightens up. He stalks past the maid, entering the stateroom.

"We... had a little accident." Arthur mumbled to the maid. "I am terribly sorry."

***

Later that morning, Arthur was back in his room to get dressed for Sunday Mass. He was standing in front of his vanity mirror while the maids attended to the seams of his trousers, his collar and his sleeves. He was just putting on his cufflinks when Roderich stood at the door frame with a stoic look on his face.

"Leave us." His father ordered his voice soothingly quiet.

The maids bowed to him on their way out. Once they were alone, Roderich strode over to his son and fixes his tie, his eyes concentrating on the task. Arthur was quiet and didn't speak or complain even if he hates it when his father fixes his tie for him.

"You are not to see that boy again, do you understand me Arthur?" Roderich's cold voice sliced through their silence. "I forbid it."

Arthur felt the fabric around his neck tightened, his father getting the knot on too tightly. He tried not to look at his father and make him see he was rolling his eyes. "Oh, stop it, Father. You'll give yourself a nosebleed."

Roderich pulls away from him and crosses to the door, slamming it (CLACK!), and then locking it shut. He wheels on his son, fixing him with is most authoritative gaze.

"Arthur, this is not a game!" Roderich said in a low voice, almost hissing… almost sounding desperate. "Our situation is precarious. You know the money's gone!"

"Of course I know it's gone." Arthur regards his father in an equally hissing voice "You remind me every day."

"Your grandfather left us nothing but a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good name." his father said, going over to him and holding onto both his shoulders. "And that name is the only card we have to play."

Arthur didn't respond to him and was looking at the rugged floor, trying to feign that he was fixing his cuffs. Roderich sighed and went back to fixing his son's tie. "I don't understand you. It is a fine match with Bonnefoy, and it will insure our survival."

"How can you put this on my shoulders?" asked Arthur, sounding hurt and lost.

"Do you want to see me working as a miner? Is that what you want? Working in an undignified place?" He could see his father's eyes slightly shown with fear, "Do you want to see our fine things sold at an auction, our memories scattered to the winds? My God, Arthur, how can you be so selfish?"

"It's so unfair." Arthur's shoulders drooped.

"Of course it's unfair!" Roderich snapped, "We're men. Our choices are never easy."

Roderich pulled the silken fabric around his son's neck in a perfect yet tight knot. Arthur couldn't breathe, feeling like he was being choked and there was no way out of it.

***

At the Divine service in the First Class Dining Saloon, the circular tables were removed and the chairs were arranged in perfectly aligned rows. An altar was placed at the front as the priest stands before them saying Holy mass. Captain Ludwig is leading a group in the hymn "Almighty Father Strong To Save." Arthur and Roderich sing in the middle of the group. Zwingly stands well at the back, keeping an eye on Arthur. He notices a commotion at the entry doors. Alfred has been halted there by two stewards. He is dressed in his third class clothes again, and stands there, hat in hand, looking out of place.

"Look, you, you're not supposed to be in here." Torris, the steward crewman, tried to dismiss the American as quietly as he can.

"I was just here last night… don't you remember?" said Alfred, he sees Vash coming towards them and he jerks his head to him. "He'll tell you."

Vash Zwingly halts in front of them with a discharged look on his face.

"Monsieur Bonnefoy and Master Roderich Kirkland continue to be most appreciative of your assistance." The Swiss bodyguard said. "They asked me to give you this in gratitude­—"

He holds out two twenty dollar bills, a sum of which was already quite costly back then. Al refuses to take it and pushes Vash's hand aside.

"Look I don't want money, I—"

"—and also to remind you" Vash continued, "that you hold a third class ticket and your presence here is no longer appropriate."

Alfred spots Arthur among the church goers but he doesn't see him. "I just need to talk to Arthur for a—"

"Gentlemen," Zwingly gestures to the stewards, "please see that Mr. Jones gets back where he belongs." he said and gives the two twenties to them instead, "And that he stays there."

"Yes sir!" said the other steward

Torris grabbed for Alfred's arm and tries to look apologetic to him, "Come along you."

Alfred gets hustled out and turns his head back to look at Arthur, who doesn't sense the commotion and sings along to the hymn.

"_O hear us when we cry to thee _

_for those in peril on the sea~_"

***

Ivan Braginski along with Captain Ludwig was leading a small tour group around the ship, including Arthur, Roderich and Francis. They pass by the nautical looking gymnasium with old fashion and unorthodox exercising equipment that were in fashion in the 1900's. Roderich regards a stationary rowing machine and scoffs.

"Rowing… I can't think of a skill I should likely need less." The bespectacled man said skeptically. "We are on board an unsinkable ship after all."

Francis chuckles beside him as Mr. Branginski went past.

"De next stop on ourr tourr vill be da Bridge." Ivan announced, "Right dis way, please."

***

Alfred, walking with determination on the Aft Well Deck, is followed closely by Gilbert and Feliciano. He quickly climbs the steps to B-Deck and steps over the gate separating 3rd from 2nd class.

"He's an angel amongst mortal men, there's no denyin'." said Gilbert, "But he's in another world, Alfie, forget him. He's closed the door."

Alfred moves furtively to the wall below the A-Deck promenade aft, and looks as if he ignored what Gilbert said. "It was _them_, not him." He glances around the deck to see if there was anyone looking. "Ready…? Go."

Gilbert shakes his head resignedly and puts his hands together, crouching down. Alfred steps into Gilbert's hands and gets boosted up to the next deck, where he scrambles nimbly over the railing, onto the First Class deck.

"He's not bein' logical, I tell ya." said Gilbert as he watched Alfred make a fool of himself

Felicano just smiled knowingly. "Amore is'a never logical."

On the A-Deck aft, a man is playing with his son, who is spinning a top with a string. The man's overcoat and hat are sitting on a deck chair nearby. Alfred emerges from behind one of the huge deck cranes and calmly picks up the coat and bowler hat. He walks away, slipping into the coat, and slicks his hair back with spit, then puts the hat on at a jaunty angle. At a distance he could pass for a gentlemen.

***

Heracles Karpusi, the handsome young and built Wireless Operator, hustles in and skirts around Mr. Braginski's tour group to hand a Marconigram to Captain Ludwig.

"Another ice warning, sir." Heracles said, his accent is nasal and almost sounds Greek "This one from the _Baltic_."

"Thank you, Karpusi" Ludwig nodded to his Operator. He glances at the message then nonchalantly puts it in his pocket. He nods reassuringly to Arthur and the group. "Not to worry, it's quite normal for this time of year. In fact, we're speeding up. I've just ordered the last boilers lit."

Ivan frowns slightly before motioning the group toward the door. They exit just as Second Officer Sadiq Annan comes out of the chartroom, stopping next to First Officer Karpusi.

"Did we ever find those binoculars for the lookouts?" he asked.

Haven't seen them since Southampton.

***

Ivan and Captain Ludwig lead the group back from the Bridge along the boat deck at the starboard side. Arthur walks into step beside Ivan and looks at the row of lifeboats puzzledly. "Mr. Braginski, I did the sum in my head," Arthur awkwardly started, "and with the number of lifeboats times the capacity you mentioned... forgive me, but it seems that there are not enough for everyone aboard."

"About half, 'actually." Ivan smiled warmly at him and chuckles. "Arthurr, you miss nothing, do you? In fact, I put in diz new type davits, which can take an extrra row of boats hirr." He gestures along the deck. "But it was thought... by some... dat de deck would look too clutterred. So I was overr-ruled."

Francis over hears them as he walks past and slaps the side of a boat. "Waste of deck space as it is, on an unsinkable ship!"

"Sleep soundly, young Arthur." The Captain spoke. "We have built you a good ship, strong and true. She's all the lifeboats you need."

As they were passing Boat 7, a gentlemen turns from the rail and walks up behind the group. It was Alfred. He taps Arthur on the arm and he turns, gasping. The American motions for him and Arthur cuts away from the group toward a door which Al holds open. They duck into the gymnasium which was now empty. Alfred closes the door behind him, and glances out through the ripple-glass window to the starboard rail.

"Al, this is impossible." Arthur looked nervous, "I _can't_ see you."

Alfred takes him by the shoulders. "Arthur, you're no picnic... you're a spoiled little brat even, but under that you're strong, pure heart, and you're the most amazingly astounding person I've ever known and…"

"Alfred I—"

"No wait." He cuts him off. "Let me try to get this out." Alfred traps him with those captivatingly blue eyes. "You're amazing... and I know I have nothing to offer you, Arthur. I know that. But I'm involved now. You jump, I jump, remember? I can't turn away without knowin' that you're goin' to be alright."

Arthur feels the tears coming to his eyes but he suppresses them. Alfred is so open and so real... not like anyone he has ever known. "You're making this very hard for me. I'll be fine… Really."

"I don't think so." Al shakes his head "They've got you in a glass jar like some insect, and you're goin' to die if you don't break out. Maybe not right away, 'cause you're strong. But sooner or later the fire in you is goin' to go out."

"It's not up to you to save me, Alfred."

"You're right. I'm no hero… Only _you_ can do that."

Arthur tears away from him, the deepness of Al's gaze was already drowning him and if he doesn't pull away he's never going to breathe again "I have to get back," he sort of chokes out, "they'll miss me. Please, Al, for both our sakes, leave me alone."

***

The First Class Lounge was the most elegant room on the ship, done in Louis Quinze Versailles style. Arthur sits on a divan, with a group around him. Roderich, Francis and Elizaveta along with their other acquaintances are taking tea. Arthur is silent and still as a porcelain figurine as the conversation washes around him.

"Of course the invitations had to be sent back to the printers twice." said Roderich, "And the caterer! Let me tell you what an odyssey that has been..."

Across from their table, Arthur spots a mother and a son having tea. The four year old boy, wearing white gloves, daintily picks up a cookie. The mother corrects him on his posture, and the way he holds the teacup. The little boy is obviously not enjoying being taught but tries so hard to please, his expression is serious. He thinks back to a glimpse of himself at that age…the relentless conditioning... the pain to becoming an Edwardian geisha.

He then calmly and deliberately turns his teacup over, spilling tea all over his trousers.

"Oh, look what I've done."

***

Titanic steams forward in the dusk light, as if lit by the embers of a giant fire. As the ship looms, the Bow slices through the glassy ocean. Alfred is there, right at the apex of the bow railing, his favorite spot. He closes his eyes, letting the chill wind clear his head. The sun was setting right a head of them in the west and the sky was splashed in wondrous colors of oranges and pinks and purples.

"Hello, Alfred." He heard someone spoke behind him. Al turns and sees Arthur standing there. "I changed my mind."

The American smiles at him, his blue eyes drinking him in. Arthur's cheeks are red with the chill wind, and his green eyes sparkle, his messy crop of salt and pepper hair blows wildly about his face. "Feliciano said you might be up—"

"Sssshh. Come here." Alfred puts a finger to his own lips and beckons him to come forward. He puts his hands on Arthur's waist as if he was going to kiss him. "Close your eyes."

Arthur does, and Al turns his to face forward, the way the ship is going. Al presses him gently to the rail, standing right behind him. Then he takes Arthur's two hands and raises them until he is standing with his arms outstretched on each side. Arthur is going along with him. When Alfred lowers his hands, Arthur's arms stay up... like wings.

"Okay. Open them." said Al quietly.

Arthur gasps. There is nothing in his field of vision but water. It's like there is no ship under them at all, just the two of them soaring. The Atlantic unrolls toward him, a hammered copper shield under a dusk sky. There is only the wind, and the hiss of the water 50 feel below.

"I'm flying!" Arthur gasps in astonishment. "Alfred…"

Arthur leans forward, arching his back as Alfred puts his hands on his waist to steady him. He hums a soft tune into Arthur's ears… so calmly soothing. He closes his eyes, feeling himself floating weightless far above the sea. Arthur smiles dreamily, then leans back, gently pressing his back against Al's chest. And he pushes forward slightly against him.

Slowly Alfred raises his hands, arms outstretched, and they meet Arthur's... fingertips gently touching. Then their fingers intertwine. Moving slowly, their fingers caress through and around each other like the bodies of two lovers. Alfred tips his face forward into Arthur's blowing hair, letting the scent of him wash over, until his cheek is against the other's ear.

Arthur turns his head until his lips are near Al's. He lowers his arms, turning further, until he finds Alfred's mouth with his. Alfred wraps his arms around him from behind, and they kiss like this with Arthur's head turned and tilted back, surrendering to him, to the emotion, to the inevitable. They kiss, slowly and tremulously, and then with building passion.

Alfred and the ship seem to merge into one force of power and optimism, lifting Arthur, buoying him forward on a magical journey, soaring onward into a night without fear.

***

Arthur's suite was like in a dream, the beautiful woodwork and satin upholstery. Alfred is overwhelmed by the opulence of the room and looks around. He sets his sketchbook and drawing materials on the marble table.

"Will this light do?" Arthur spoke, turning on one of the expensive looking lamps, "Don't artists need good light?"

"Zat is true," said Alfred, imitating a bad French accent. "I am not used to working in such 'orreeble conditions." He looks to his right and sees one of Arthur's paintings and crouches next to them stacked against the wall. "Hey... Monet! Isn't he great... the use of color? I saw him once... through a hole in this garden fence in Giverny." He trails his fingers down one of the water lilies looking fascinated.

Arthur smiled at the artist's child-like wonder and goes into the adjoining walk-in wardrobe closet. Al sees him go to the safe and start working the combination. He's fascinated.

"Francis insists on lugging this thing everywhere." said Arthur.

Alfred raised an eyebrow "Should I be expecting him anytime soon?"

"Not as long as the cigars and brandy hold out."

CLUNK! He unlocks the safe. Glancing up, Arthur meets his blue eyes in the mirror behind the safe. He opens it and removes the necklace, then holds it out to Al who takes it nervously.

"What is it?" asked Alfred, whose throat had gone dry by the huge stone on his palm "A sapphire?"

"A diamond." said Arthur "A very rare diamond, called the Heart of the Ocean."

Alfred gazes at wealth beyond his comprehension.

"I want you to draw me like your French girl… Wearing this." Arthur whispers close to him "Wearing _only_ this."

Alfred looks up at him in surprise.

***

In the sitting room, Alfred lays out his pencils like surgical tools; his sketchbook is opened and ready. He looks up as Arthur comes into the room, wearing a silk bathrobe.

"As a paying customer, I expect to get what I want." Arthur hands him a dime and steps back, parting the robe.

The blue stone lies at the middle of his pale chest. Arthur's heart was pounding as he slowly lowers the robe. Alfred looks so stricken it is almost comical while he watches quietly as the robe finally drops to the floor. Arthur moves across the room, naked, then settles on the divan, posing like a cat.

"Tell me when it looks right to you." Arthur's face was calm.

"Uh…" it took two seconds for Alfred's brain to get working again. "Just… just bend your left leg a little and… and lower your head. Yeah. Eyes to me. That's it." He starts to sketch then drops his pencil, Arthur stifles a laugh.

"I believe you are blushing, Mr. Big Artiste." teased Arthur "I can't imagine Monsieur Monet blushing."

"He does landscapes." said Al, who was slightly sweating.

Alfred's blue eyes come up to look at him over the top edge of his sketchpad as he draws. Despite his nervousness, he draws with sure strokes, and what emerges is the best thing he has ever done. Arthur's pose is languid, his hands beautiful, and his green eyes radiate his energy.

Time seemed to slow down for the both of them. The room was quiet and a bit warm. Alfred's eyes trail over the muscled curves of Arthur's boyish body, imitating them with wide sure strokes. It was as if his charcoal pencil was caressing the other's body almost too intimately. The arm swerved up on his paper elegantly down to Arthur's soft pale waist and abdomen. The tip of his pencil went lower sketching the very manhood not in a vulgar sense but an elegant connection. Alfred had sketched a lot of nudes in the whole of his artist's career… but never has he felt slightly aroused than this. And he could tell that Arthur was feeling the same way.

Arthur's heart was pounding the whole time, beating through his rib cage. He tried not to move a muscle and breathed deep breaths through his nose as he lay comfortably on the divan…

It was the most erotic moment of his life... up till then at least.

_To be continued._

_

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_

AN: There… all done! 8'D LOL XD there's more to come so don't worry! I hope this wasn't so much as a cliff hanger for you guys. I already put in the foreshadowing there for you so you guys prolly know what'll happen next. XD Hmmmm… And since this chapter is a bit special I made a USxUK fanart!! You can find the link to it on my profile or you can copypaste it from here:

www.(dot)kaiplue(dot)deviantart(dot)com / art / APH-UNSINKABLE-132928228

;D I hope you all enjoy it! Tell me what you guys think. o3o Ciao~

subPS: Is it me? or does the name "Master Roderich Kirkland" seem funny? XDDD ( ROFLMAO Roddy with thick eyebrows… -is shot- )/sub


	7. Escape the World

Unsinkable

AN: No, I haven't abandoned this story just yet. I'm so so so sorry for not being able to post an update soon cuz college has taken over my life… Yadda yadda and life goes on. So, I hope you lot are still following this fic cuz I almost run out of motivation to write… But not to worry! Cuz I WILL FINISH THIS.

Disclaimer: I still do not own themmm~

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Chapter VII: Escape the World

The Eve of April 14th, 1912

Alfred signs his drawing at the bottom right corner of the paper. Arthur, wearing his robe again, is leaning on his shoulder, watching. His green eyes gaze at the drawing in astonishment at the likeness. Alfred practically X-rayed his soul.

"Date it, Alfred." Arthur whispered quietly. "I want to always remember this night."

He does: _4/14/1912. A.F.J._

Arthur meanwhile scribbles a note on a piece of Titanic stationary. He accepts the drawing from Alfred, and crosses to the safe in the wardrobe. He puts the diamond back in the safe, placing the drawing and the note on top of it and closes the safe door with a CLUNK!

***

In the First Class Smoking Room, Zwingly enters from the Palm Court through the revolving door and crosses the room toward Francis. A fire is blazing in the marble fireplace, and the usual fatcats are playing cards, drinking and talking. Francis sees Vash and detaches from his group, coming to him.

"None of the stewards have seen him." Reported the bodyguard

Francis shook his head in slight disbelief "This is ridiculous, Zwingly. Find them." He hissed, low but forceful.

***

The Titanic glides across an unnatural sea, black and calm as a pool of oil. The ships lights are mirrored almost perfectly in the black water. The sky is brilliant with stars. A meteor traces a bright line across the heavens. On the Bridge, Captain Ludwig peers out at the blackness ahead of the ship. Third officer Honda hands him a cup of hot tea with lemon. It steams in the bitter cold of the open bridge. Honda is next to him, staring out at the sheet of black glass the Atlantic has become.

"I don't think I've ever seen such a flat calm, in 24 years at sea." regarded the slightly shorter Asian officer.

"Yes," agreed Ludwig. "like a mill pond. Not a breath of wind."

"It will make the icebergs harder to see," said Honda ominously. "with no breaking water at the base…"

"Mmm." Ludwig stares into his cup of tea and plays with the teaspoon and the slice of lemon in the cup. Those words suddenly made his skin tight in an unpleasant way. "Well, I'm off." he said, "Maintain speed and heading, Mr. Honda."

"Yes sir."

He turns to go, taking his cap and trench coat. "And call on me, of course, if anything becomes in the slightest degree doubtful."

Honda smiles as him. "Off to Third Class again I see, Captain?" he said, but Ludwig merely ducked his head behind his collar to hide his blush and went on his way out the door.

***

Arthur, who was fully dressed now, returns to the sitting room while Alfred was still looking through the stacks of abstract paintings. He sees Arthur come in and he smiles at him –- until they hear a key in the lock. Arthur takes Alfred's hand and leads him silently through the bedrooms. Zwingly enters by the sitting room door.

"Young Master Arthur? Are you in here?" the bodyguard called out. He hears a door opening and goes through Francis' room toward Arthur's.

The both of them came out of Arthur's stateroom, closing the door. Arthur leads Alfred quickly along the corridor toward the B deck foyer. They are halfway across the open space when the sitting room door opens in the corridor and Zwingly comes out. The valet sees Alfred with Arthur and hustles after them.

"Oh shit." Alfred said laughing

"Oh bollocks… Come on!" Arthur tugs on Alfred's arm with a grin.

They break into a run, surprising the few ladies and gentlemen about. Arthur leads him past the stairs to the bank of elevators. They run into one, shocking the hell out of the Polish Elevator operator.

"Take us down. Quickly, quickly!" ordered Arthur.

"Go go go!"

As Feliks scrambles to comply, Alfred even helps him close the steel gate. Zwingly runs up as the lift starts to descend. He slams one hand on the bars of the gate. Arthur gives him a very rude gesture with his finger, and laughs as Vash disappears above. The Swiss bodyguard cursed and takes another lift down to go after them. He emerges from lift and runs to the one Alfred and Arthur were in. The Operator was just closing the gate to go back up. Zwingly runs around the bank of elevators and scans the foyer... no sign of them. He tries the stairs going down to F-Deck.

***

The F-deck corridors was a functional space, with access to a number of machine spaces (fan rooms, boiler uptakes), Arthur and Alfred were leaning against a wall, laughing.

"Pretty tough for a valet, this fella." said Alfred.

"He's an ex-Pinkerton." said Arthur, a bit breathless. "Francis' father hired the bloody Swiss to keep him out of trouble... to make sure he always got back to the hotel with his wallet and watch, after some crawl through the less reputable parts of town..."

"Kinda like we're doin' right now-- uh oh!" Alfred sees Zwingly who has spotted them from a cross-corridor nearby. He charges toward them. They run around a corner into a blind alley. There is one door, marked _CREW ONLY_, and Alfred flings it open.

They enter a roaring Ran Room, with no way out but a ladder going down. Alfred latches the deadbolt on the door, and Zwingly slams against it a moment later. Alfred grins at Arthur, pointing to the ladder.

"After you," gestured Alfred, being a mock gentleman. Arthur scoffed at him but went in first anyway.

They come down the escape ladder and look around in amazement. It is like a vision of hell itself, with the roaring furnaces and black figures moving in the smoky glow. They run the length of the boiler room, dodging amazed stokers, and trimmers with their wheelbarrows of coal.

"Carry on! Don't mind us!" Alfred shouted over the din of machines.

They run through the open watertight door into Boiler Room 6. Al pulls the other through the fiercely hot alley between two boilers and they wind up in the dark, out of sight of the working crew. Watching from the shadows, they see the stokers working in the hellish glow, shoveling coal into the insatiable maws of the furnaces. The whole place thunders with the roar of the fires. The furnaces roar, silhouetting the glistening stokers. Alfred grins and leans forward to kiss Arthur's face, tasting the sweat trickling down from his forehead. They kiss passionately in the steamy, pounding darkness.

***

"Capitano! What are you doing here?"

Feliciano looked up from the card game that he and some of the steerage men had started. The Immaculate looking Captain entered the Well Deck with such dignity and poise that people were making way for him and made a very hushed silence. As soon as he spotted the Captain coming towards him, Feliciano stood up with a start, practically halting the on going game. Ludwig smiled at the look of child-like wonder he saw in the brown eyes of the Italian ruffian. He swore he had seen those eyes before… from a very long time ago.

"To visit you of course." The Captain said bluntly. He stared at the other men whom the Italian was playing with. "If I maybe so rude gentlemen, but may I steel your friend Feliciano for a while?"

None of them spoke, too shocked and intimidated that the actual captain of the Titanic was standing right before them. Feliciano stubbed out the cigarette he had clamped on his lips and straightens his clothes out frantically.

"Of course Capitano. I'd love to go with you." Feliciano said with a light airy voice. He grabs for his rugged jacket and paperboy's hat and took Ludwig's gloved hand, leading him out of the Well deck aft, leaving a stunned silence among the steerage.

Once they were out of earshot and sheltered by a thick pipe, Ludwig tightens his grip on Feliciano's hand, making him stop and turn around. Warm brown eyes looked at him curiously with innocent amusement and Ludwig could feel his breath get stuck in his throat.

"Hmm…?" Feliciano tilted his head to the side, still holding onto the Captain's hand. "Is something the matter Capitano?"

Ludwig shook his head. "No… I.. uhm… You did not come to see me today. I have not seen you since last night."

"Oh." Feliciano's eyes widened in realization, "Well… Gilbert told'a me that it was best if I wasn't to see you again sir."

A finely chiseled blonde eyebrow rose. "Gilbert told you?"

"Si, he said that it was best if we stayed where we belong." The Italian said sadly. "My friend Alfred had already gotten himself into a lot of trouble just by being in first class."

"But Alfred is a fine young man. I had the privilege of meeting him on deck…" Ludwig blinked, Feliciano it seems, is very gullible. "And have I not told you that I am to tell off my crewmen. You, of all people, are allowed to come and visit me… It… it unnerves me whenever I do not see you or hear your voice."

He did not know why he was being very honest with this young man. It was giving him a sense of nostalgia just by being around him. And right now… his nerves were tight with something he could not put his finger on…Like they weren't going to see each other ever again very soon. Ludwig shook this feeling of fear away… The Titanic after all, still had a long voyage ahead of them. He had not noticed that he had been silent for a long while, just staring into Feliciano's eyes.

"I'm sorry to upset you mi Capitano." Feliciano's warm voice broke their silence. "I promise I'll go see you again on the Bridge tomorrow." He smiled reassuringly at the Captain, and that was all that it takes to drive out the fear that he was feeling in his chest.

"Tomorrow." The Captain repeated.

The Italian nodded and smiled. "Si. I still have much to learn from you after all… Ludwig."

"Why wait?" The Captain smiled. "We still have all the time in the world tonight."

And with that he uncharacterly pulled on Feliciano and led him down the hall of the deck. Felicano excitedly followed, clutching onto the Captain's hand tightly who led him into the inner depths his majestic ship.

***

Al and Arthur enter and run laughing between the rows of stacked cargo. The Englishman hugs himself against the cold, after the dripping heat of the boiler room. They come upon a brand new Renault touring car, lashing down to a pallet. It looks like a royal coach from a fairy tale, its brass trim and headlamps nicely set off by its deep burgundy color. Arthur climbs into the plushly upholstered back seat, acting very royal. There are cut crystals bud vases on the walls back there, each containing a rose. Alfred jumps into the driver's seat, enjoying the feel of the leather and wood.

"Where to, Sir?" the American took in a posh British accent of a valet driver making Arthur giggle.

He wraps his arms around Alfred and whispered softly. "To the stars."

Arthur's hands come out of the shadows and pull him over the seat into the back. Alfred lands next to him, and his breath seems loud in the quiet darkness. He looks at Arthur and sees him smiling… They could feel their heartbeats against each other's chest being so close to each other in a cramped space… It was the moment of truth.

"Are you nervous…?" Al asked breathlessly. He strokes Arthur's face, cherishing him.

Arthur kissed his artist's fingers very gently. "Put your hands on me Alfred. Please… I need to feel that you exist. And this isn't just one of my wild dreams."

Arthur's green eyes were glazed and Alfred quiets him with a finger pressed on his lips before capturing them with his. The kiss was gentle and soft, but Alfred was leading him on, like he was teaching him how to properly kiss. Arthur slides down in the back seat under his welcome weight. The American hovered above him, careful not to crush the other young man under him.

He was being very gentle, careful at where exactly where he puts his hand on the other's smaller body. He had never been this gentle with anyone, not even with a girl, and he was treating Arthur like he was the most delicate porcelain. Not soon after, the kiss stopped being like exploring and prodding, and started to become more desperate, frantic and needy.

Arthur struggled to push Alfred's wool jacket off his broad shoulders and blindly searched for the buttons of his shirt. His eyes were screwed shut and his heartbeat was drumming in his ears. All his other senses were suddenly very sensitive, especially his sense of touch. He could feel Alfred undressing him too as the American parted the kiss for air, he trails a slew of gentle kisses down Arthur's now exposed neck, to his collar bone and then to his pale chest. His whole body was starting to feel hot and feverish with those soft fluttery kisses.

Alfred stopped his exploring lips from going down further and sat up to take off his suspenders. He looked down upon the young man underneath him and felt his breathe be taken away. Arthur was sprawled in the cramped space, slightly panting and skin flushed with blood, pale chest heaving up and down.

"Take me…" Arthur whispered with half lidded eyes and reach out to stroke Alfred's blonde hair. He gulped and nodded at Arthur, and he was more than happy to comply.

* * *

AN: :/ Sorry for the short Chapter. This is all I can squeeze out of my brain for now. I promise it won't take THAT long again to post the next Chapter. BUG ME EVERYDAY IF YOU HAVE TO!

Tell me what you think gays! And see you sooooon!

~Ciao


	8. Collision

AN: Hey guys, it's been a while again. Sorry I haven't updated as soon as I said I would. But things have been pretty crazy over here. Some of you have probably heard of what happened here in the Philippines because of the typhoon Ondoy. Almost half of Metro Manila was submerged in flood waters. Heh, you guys have no idea what the hell I'd gone through that ordeal. I waded through cold chest deep waters…sooo I kinda now know what the hell Arthur would be up against… when it happens.

-coughs- anyhoo~

ON TO THE STORY!

Disclaimer: Oh god I'm so sorry that I'll be putting these characters in unfortunate predicaments.

* * *

Chapter VIII: Collision

Roderich stepped onto the A-deck foyer platform as a steward holds the door for him. He had managed to excuse himself from the brandy room and dodge Elizaveta's company. The stagnant air was cold out; they were already in the middle of the Atlantic. The majestic Titanic steams hell bent through the darkness, hurling up white water at the bow. The air is cold and crisp that it stings your face.

He had overheard the harsh whispers of Zwingly to Francis… His son was missing again. Meaning he was deliberately disobeyed. Roderich knew that that lanky American was a bad influence from the very start. Now their very existence was in jeopardy.

***

"Aaaah-Al-Alfred!" Arthur gasps and curls his toes, clawing Alfred's back. His head was swimming in unbridled pleasure as this other man thrusts deep into him. God… he had never imagined in the whole of his young life that he could feel as amazing as this. He had never thought that there was something deep inside him that could raise a such spine tingling pleasure and only Alfred was the one who discovered it. "Oh God.. yes.. yes…~ Ahh! Right there!"

Hazy blue eyes stare lovingly down on him in a lust filled gaze. Not once did Alfred stop caressing, touching, feeling every bit of Arthur's skin. It was madness. It was like a new land he had discovered, he claimed it, over and over, kissing, sucking and biting. All his senses were filled with Arthur, his scent, his moans, his taste. The two of them melded into one, heaving and pushing landscapes of fertile skin.

"Nnggh.. Arthur…" Alfred gasped.

"A-Alfred… I.." Arthur panted back, he suddenly cringed when the other hit that delicious spot inside of him once again. "I.. love you…!"

Alfred's blue eyes grow wide with surprise then swooped down to capture those lips again "Oh god… oh fucking god… Arthur…" He panted. "W-what did you say?... what did you just say?"

"I…" Arthur panted, riding out the throws of pleasure, it was all too much. "I s-said I love you."

The American held back the tears that were threatening to pour and kissed him again. They kissed tenderly, lovingly, putting all of their emotion in that one sweet gesture. And with one last thrust, they poured themselves, Arthur spilling himself over their sweaty abdomens and chests and Alfred filling Arthur from the inside all the way up to the brim. The rear window of the Renault was completely fogged up with their heavy panting breaths. Arthur's hand comes up and slams against the glass for a moment, making a handprint in the veil of condensation.

For a long while neither of them spoke, their panting was the only sound that could be heard… Moments later Alfred's overcoat covers like a blanket over them. It stirs and Arthur pulls it down. They huddle under it, intertwined, now mostly clothed. Their faces are flushed and they look at each other wonderingly. Arthur puts his hand on Al's face, as if making sure he is real.

"You're trembling." Arthur whispered.

"It's okay… I'm alright." Alfred lays his cheek against the other's chest. "I can feel your heart beating."

Arthur hugs Al's head to his chest, and just holds on for dear life.

***

The bow sweeps down towards the foremast like a tiny half-cylinder and up on the crow's nest, the look outs, Hercules and Sadiq were slightly huddled together against the cold of the Atlantic. They stammed their feet and swung their arms, trying to keep warm in the 22 knot freezing wind, which whips caper of their breath away behind.

"You can smell ice, you know. When it's near." Sadiq's smooth voice sounded beside the Greek. Heracles rolls his eyes

"che, yeah… like I would believe you." Said the timid, yet built Operator.

"Well I can." The Turk said smugly.

***

Back at the Bonnefoy suite, Vash comes in to see Francis standing and staring at the open safe. He had lost Al and Arthur from the chase and decided to go back to the suite and in form his master.

"Is there anything missing sir?" inquired the bodyguard.

Francis pulls out and stares at the drawing of Arthur, naked and sprawled on the couch. His face clenches with fury as reads the note again:

_"DARLING, NOW YOU CAN KEEP US_

_BOTH LOCKED IN YOUR SAFE, _

_ARTHUR"_

Zwingly stood beside him and looks over his shoulder at the drawing. The Frenchman crumples Arthur's note, then takes the drawing in both hands as if to rip it in half. He tenses to do it… then stops himself.

"Non…" he sighed in defeat. "I have a better idea."

***

Without hearing the words over the roar of the furnaces, two stokers tell two stewards which way Arthur and Alfred went. The stewards move off toward the forward holds. They enter the ship's cargo hold in search of the two. They have electric torches and play the beams around the hold. They spot the Renault with it's fogged up rear window and approach it slowly. The torch light up Arthur's passionate handprint, still there on the fogged up glass. One steward whips open the door.

"Got you!"

But the both of them were stunned. The back seat was empty.

***

Alfred and Arthur, now fully dressed, come out through a crew door onto the Well deck, laughing so hard they could barely stand. The Englishman had to breathe a few times and wipe the tears off his eyes.

"Did you haha- did you see the look on their faces??" Alfred tried to say while chuckling, and holding his stomach.

Up above them, in the crow's nest, Hercules hears the disturbance below and looks around and down to the well deck, where he can see two figures embracing. Alfred and Arthur stand in each others arms. Their breath clouds around them in

the now freezing air, but they don't even feel the cold.

"When this ship docks," Arthur said when their laughter subsided and his arms wrapped around the American's neck "I'm getting off with you."

Alfred gives him a toothy smile and shakes his head as if in disbelief. "This is crazy."

"I know." Arthur laughs. "It doesn't make any sense. That's why I trust it."

With that piercing blue gaze, Alfred pulls the other man flush against his chest and kisses him passionately. Neither of them seem to notice the world around them as they kissed. They were too caught up in each other.

Up in the crow's nest Hercules nudges Sadiq beside him. "Hey…look at that,"

Sadiq peers over Hercules' shoulder and smirks as he watched the two men below suck each other's faces. "They're a bloody sight warmer than we are."

"Well if that's what it takes for us two to get warm, I'd rather not, if it's all the same." The Greek young man spat and pushes Sadiq off his shoulder.

They both have a good laugh at that one. Once they face the bow again, Heracles' expression falls first. He glances forward again and he does a double take. The color completely drains out of his face…

In front of them, you could barely see the huge massive silhouette of an iceberg right in their path, about 500 yards out. The sky behind it was as black as coal and there was no moon in sight.

"Shit!" He reaches past Sadiq and rings the lookout bell three times. Sadiq then grabs the telephone, calling the Bridge. He waits precious seconds for it to be picked up, never taking his eyes off the black mass ahead.

"Pick up, ya bastards." The Turk cursed under his breath.

Back at the Bridge inside the enclosed wheelhouse, First Officer Honda walks unhurriedly to the telephone, picking it up.

"Is someone there!" shouted Sadiq on the other line.

"Yes." Said Honda, calmly "What do you see?"

"Iceberg right ahead!"

"Thank you." Honda hangs up and rushes to the engine room telegraph. While signaling "FULL SPEED ASTERN" he yells to Quartermaster, who is at the wheel.

"Hard a' starboard!" The quartermaster yells back. "The helm is hard over, sir."

Down below in the engine rooms and the boiler rooms, the men were working as usual when the command from the bridge reached them for _FULL SPED ASTERN_. The engineers and greasers panic like madmen to close steam valves and start breaking the mighty propeller shafts, as big as a mighty Red Wood trunk, to a stop. The stokers in the boiler rooms meanwhile, try to shout in the roar of the furnaces and shuts all of the dampers tight.

From the Bridge, Honda watches the berg grow and loom... straight ahead. The bow finally starts to come to the left since the ship turns the reverse of the helm setting. The Asian officer's jaw clenches as the bow turns with agonizing slowness. He holds his breath as the horrible physics play out.

Back at the crow's nest Sadiq and Hercules braces themselves against the railing.

"Why aren't they fucking turning?"

Just then, there was dead silence… and a few seconds later the bow of the mighty ship thunders onward… and then…

KRUUUNCH!!

The ship hits the berg on its starboard bow, making a hideous scratching sound of ice against metal, sort of like nails on a chalkboard. Underwater the ice smashes against the steel hull plates. The iceberg bumps and scrapes along the side of the ship. Rivets pop as the steel plate of the hull flexes under the load.

In the cargo hold the two stewards who were in search of Al and Arthur, stagger as the hull buckles in four feet with a sound like thunder. Like a sledgehammer beating along outside the ship, the berg splits the hull plates and the sea pours in, sweeping them off their feet. The icy water swirls around the Renault as the men scramble for the stairs.

On the D-Deck halls starboard side, Ludwig and Feliciano stagger and hold on to each other as the iceberg collided. People along the deck were all holding on to something to keep their balance. Ludwig gulps and creases his eyebrows at the sudden tremor and sound. Something wasn't right. His heart was pounding against his chest while his hands were tightly wrapped around the Italian as if to hold on for dear life.

In his cabin, Gilbert was tossed in his bunk by the impact. He hears a sound like the greatly amplified squeal of a skate on ice and scrambles out of his linen and bed sheets. "What the fuck was that?"

Roderich on the other hand, slightly stumbles forward at the great jolt and holds onto the A Deck's mahogany wooden railing. Elizaveta has just come out of the foyer and was holding on against the intricately stained glass door where she sees the Austrian father keep his balance. Women in fine dresses and men in top hats look around curiously as they stumble and fail.

In his stateroom, surrounded by piles of plans while making notes in his ever-present book, Mr. Braginski looks up at the sound of a cut-crystal light fixture tinkling like a wind chime. He feels the shudder run through the ship. His face had an expression of hurt…Too much of his soul was in this great ship for him not to feel its mortal wound.

Back at the Well deck Alfred and Arthur break their kiss and look up in astonishment as the berg sails past, blocking out the sky like a mountain. Fragments of ice break off and crash down onto the deck, and they had to jump back to avoid flying chunks.

"Stay back!" Al said, pushing Arthur back with a protective arm. They then rush to the starboard rail in time to see the berg moving aft down the side of the ship.

Honda rings the watertight door alarm, quickly throwing the switch that closes them. In the boiler rooms the stokers stagger as they hear the rolling thunder of the collision. They see the starboard side of the ship buckle in towards them and are almost swept off their feet by a rush of water coming in about two feet above the floor.

The boiler room Six starts to flood to knee deep water in under 10 seconds and men scramble to the exits for safety. They hear the alarm go and scramble through the swirling water to the watertight door between Boiler Rooms 6 and 5. The room is full of water vapor as the cold sea strikes the red hot furnaces. Someone yells to the stokers scrambling through the door as it comes down like a slow guillotine.

"Go Lads! Go! Go!" They dive through into Boiler Room 5 just before the door rumbles down with a CLANG.

***

Just when the Iceberg had passed, the two men on the crow's nest sat back against the cold steal pole from the adrenaline. Hercules laid his head against Sadiq's shoulder.

"Dear God that was a close shave." said Sadiq.

"Tch… Smell ice can you…?" Hercules snides. "… bleeding Christ."

***

"Ve~ What was that just now…?" Feliciano finally loosens his hug on the Captain once the tremors were over. Ludwig still has his vice like grip on the Italian's shoulders and he was looking over the railing to see if he could spot what was wrong. Feliciano could see his icey blue eyes were in utter turmoil. "mi Capitano…? Are you alright?"

Ludwig finally lets go of him and shakes his head while gritting his teeth. "I'm fine."

He leans over the rail and looks to his left to see the huge silhouette of the berg just near the stern. He turns to Feliciano and tries to keep the tremble from this voice.

"Listen Feliciano, do as I say. Go back to your deck and rouse your friends. Get them to the well deck as quickly as you can. Is that understood?" He tires not to look into the Italian's wondering brown eyes and looks away. "I must go."

"Capitano.. you're scaring me." admitted Feliciano. He was confused as to why Ludwig suddenly sounded so urgent.

"It's fine." Ludwig places his hands on the young man's shoulders to reassure him. "Just trust me. Meet me at the Bridge once you've woken up everyone. I must go to see what exactly happened."

The Italian helplessly nodded as if he didn't have any choice. "al…alright."

"Gute." Ludwig then pivots his heel and starts on a sprint along the deck hall as Feliciano watches him go, too terrified to even move from the railing.

***

The alarm bells still clatter mindlessly at the Bridge, seeming to reflect 1st Officer Honda's inner state. He is in shock, unable to get a grip on what just happened. He just ran the biggest ship in history into an iceberg on its maiden voyage. He notes the time and enters what just happened in Ship's logbook. Just then Captain Ludwig rushes onto the bridge, tucking in his shirt.

"What just happened, Mr. Honda?" he hears the Captain's smooth voice.

Honda nervously turns and gives a stiff bow to the Captain. "An iceberg, sir…" he started slowly. "I put her hard a' starboard and run the engines full astern, but it was too close. I tried to port around it, but she hi... and I—"

"Close the emergency doors." Ludwig cut him

"The doors are closed, sir."

Together they rush out onto the starboard wing and Honda points. Smith looks into the darkness aft, then wheels around to 2nd Officer Sadiq Annan who had come down from the crow's nest along with Operator Karpusi.

"Find Mr. Braginski and get him to sound the ship." Ludwig orders.

***

In steerage, Feliciano comes down into the hall and finds the state it was in. He sees dozens of rats running toward him in the corridor, fleeing the flooding bow. Feliciano jumps aside as the rats run by.

"Ma-- che cazzo!" he cursed.

In his state room Gilbert gets out of his top bunk in the dark and drops down to the floor. SPLASH!!

"What in hell--?!"

He snaps on the light. The floor is covered with 3 inches of freezing water, and more coming in. He pulls the door open, and steps out into the corridor, which was now flooded. Feliciano spots him and runs toward him, splashing his way and yelling something in Italian. He panics and frantically tells everything that the Captain had told him to do. Gilbert and Feliciano then, start pounding on doors, getting everybody up and out. The alarm spreads in several languages… Moments later, the two of them lead a crowd of steerage men clogging the corridors, heading to aft, away from the flooding. Many of them have grabbed suitcases and duffel bags, some of which are soaked.

"If this is the direction the rats were runnin', it's good enough for me." said Gilbert.

***

At the Well deck Arthur and Alfred were leaning over the starboard rail, looking at the hull of the ship. Behind them a couple of steerage guys were kicking a big chunk of ice around the deck playing it like a soccer ball and laughing.

"Looks okay." Alfred said. "I don't see anything."

"Could it have damaged the ship?" wondered Arthur out loud with furrowed eyebrows.

"It didn't seem like much of a bump." Al assured him. "I'm sure we're okay."

***

Mr. Braginski, carrying several rolls of charts and blueprints, hurries down the 1st Class suites corridor, headed for the Bridge and passes an officious steward, Torris, coming along the other direction, getting the few concerned passengers back into their rooms.

"There's no cause for alarm. Please, go back to your rooms." said the steward. He was stopped in his tracks by Francis and Zwingly. "Please, sir. There's no emergency—"

"Yes there is," said Francis, cutting him off. "I have been robbed. Now get the Master at Arms."

Torris stares at him in disbelief.

"Now! You moron!" Francis barked.

***

In the Bridge Chartroom, Captain Ludwig studies the commutator and he turns to Honda, who was standing behind him.

"A five degree list in less than ten minutes."

The Ship's owner and designer, Mr. Braginski, enters behind them, out of breath and clearly unnerved. He doesn't even hesitate to suck in a breath.

"She's taking in water fast... in the forepeak tank and the forward holds, in boiler room six."

***

Arthur and Alfred come up the steps from the well deck, which are right next to three men. They stare as the couple climbs over the locked gate. A moment later, Captain Ludwig rounds the corner, followed by Mr. Braginski and First Officer Honda. They have come down from the bridge by the outside stairs. The three men, their faces grim, crush right past Al and Arthur.

"Can you shore up?" asked Ludwig.

"Not unless the pumps get ahead." said Honda.

The inspection party goes down the stairs to the well deck, not even giving Arthur and Al a single glance. Alfred's face was in slight worry on what he had just heard and judges it by the crew's nervous hurried actions.

"This is bad…" He tells Arthur ominously.

"We have to tell Father and Francis."

Al looks at him as if he's joking. "Now it's worse."

"Come with me, Alfred." said Arthur. "You jump, I jump…Right?"

"Right."

Arthur smiles reassuringly and holds onto Alfred's warm hand. He was practically nervous but he tried his best not to show it. Alfred smiles back at him with that same warm carefree smile and he follows him through the door inside the ship.

***

Moments later Alfred and Arthur cross the foyer, entering the 1st Class corridor. Vash Zwingly was out side the stateroom, leaning against the wall casually, waiting for them in the hall as they approach the room.

"We've been looking for you, young master." said the body guard. He gestures for them to come in and they quietly enter.

Zwingly follows and, unseen, moves close behind Alfred and smoothly slips the diamond necklace into the pocket of his overcoat. Francis and Roderich were waiting in the sitting room, along with the Master at Arms and two stewards, whom included Torris. They were silent as Arthur and Alfred enter.

"Something serious has happened." started Arthur.

"That's right." Francis cuts him off casually. "Two things dear to me have disappeared this evening. Now that one is back…" He glances from Arthur to the lanky American. "...Now I have a pretty good idea where to find the other. Search him." He orders to the Master at Arms.

The Master at Arms steps up to Alfred. "Coat off, mate." Vash pulls at Alfred's coat and he shakes his head in dismay, shrugging out of it. The Master at Arms pats him down.

"This is horseshit." Al exclaimed.

"Francis, you can't be serious!" shouted Arthur, his ever bushy eyebrows furrowing. "We're in the middle of an emergency and you—" he wasn't able to finish because the Master at Arms has just pulled the Heart of the Ocean out of the pocket of Al's coat.

"Is this it?"

Arthur was stunned… Needless to say, so was Alfred. They both stare at it in confusion.

"Yes, that's it." Francis said breezily.

The Master at Arms starts to handcuff Alfred and he struggles. The two stewards help to hold Alfred back, which they fail miserably because of Alfred's brute strength. His blue eyes flash with rage at Francis and Vash's directions before looking at Arthur imploringly.

"Don't you believe it, Arthur! Don't!" he yells.

"He… couldn't have." Arthur says uncertainly.

"Of course he could. Easy enough for a professional." stated Francis a matter of factly. "He memorized the combination when you opened the safe."

"But I was with him the whole time." the Englishman reasoned. "He can't have!"

"Perhaps…" Francis leans toward Arthur and whispers to him low and cold. "He did it while you were putting your clothes back on."

"I swear Arthur they put it in my pocket!" Alfred hisses as he tried to battle from his restraints.

"It's not even your pocket." Vash stated. He looks at Alfred's over coat and reads the name tag. " 'Property of A. L. Ryerson' " He shows the coat to the Master at Arms where there is a label inside the collar with the owner's name.

"That was reported stolen today."

"I was going to return it!…" Al reasons and turns to Arthur again. "Art… please…"

Arthur feels utterly betrayed, hurt and confused. He shrinks away from him. Alfred starts shouting to him as Zwingly and the Master at Arms drag him out into the hall. Arthur didn't have the courage to look at him in the eye… the American' starts to trash and growl again, shouting and pleading to Arthur.

"Art, don't listen to them... I didn't do this! You know I didn't! You _know_ it!"

Arthur was stunned and tried to block out Alfred's pleading voice. He was devastated. Francis lays a comforting hand on his shoulder as the tears threaten to well up. Everything… Everything they did and said and felt… was a lie? And all this time he had been a fool for believing in something too good to be true. He actually believed that this was his chance of freedom… he was played… he was betrayed.

And Now how he wished he should've jumped over that rail at the back of the ship in the first place. Before any of this started… before he even met _him_.

_To be continued.

* * *

_

AN: Oh, FINALLY the story picks up. Now we get to see some action!! xD Whoo! Sorry if this chapter feels a little too lopsided and awkward. I had trouble of visualizing a lot of scenes happening all at the same time. :C I hope to God I didn't FAIL.

On the side note, this is for **Vocalxiang**, who reviewed this story and was kind enough to offer to translate Unsinkable into Chinese. I'm sorry, I don't know how else I could reply to you because you didn't write a signed review. But I'd be thrilled for this fic to be translated into another language!... I fail at Chinese anyway. -is part Chinese- 8'D It'll be awesome. Thank you… you have my permission to do so, dear. :)

Kay~ that's all for now!! Tell me what you guys think so far! o3o …This fic is nearing it's end.

~ciao


	9. SOS

AN: OH HAI. It's been quite a while again and I'm sorry. I just waited for my exam Finals to be over cuz college has taken over my life again. Now it's a brand new semester for me. Somehow I've completely forgotten about this story altogether and I'm sorrrrryyy!! Gah. But I'm working on it now. I'm kind of reluctant to write the next few chapters cuz I know all of you would hate me one way or another. oTL

Disclaimer: ;w; I wasn't the one who sank this ship… James Cameron did. And oh yah, I just borrowed the cast from Hiramuya.

* * *

Chapter IX: S.O.S.

The atmosphere in the Bridge Chartroom was tense as Mr. Braginski unrolls a blueprint of the ship across the chartroom table. It was a side elevation, showing all the watertight bulkheads of the massive structure. His hands were shaking as he pointed to it while Honda and Sadiq hovered behind him and the Captain.

"When can we get underway, do you think?" asked The Turkish officer. Ludwig frowns at him and turns his attention to Ivan's drawing.

The owner points to it for emphasis as he talks. "Waterr, 14 feet above de keel in ten minutes... in the forrrepeak... in all three holds... and in boilerr room six."

"That's right." confirmed Ludwig.

"Five comparrtments." continued Ivan. "She can stay afloat vith da first fourr comparrtments breached. But not five. Not five. As she goes down by da head de water vill spill overr da tops of de bulkheads..." he slides his hand and gestures to the compartments one to the other. "at E Deck... frrom one to de next... back and back. Der iz no stoppink it."

"The pumps—" the Captain started, but Ivan cut him off.

"Da pumps buy you time... but minutes only. Frrom dis moment, no matterr vhat we do, Titanik will founder."

"But this ship can't sink!" the Captain said in disbelief.

"She is made of iron, sir." Honda spoke up. "I assure you, she can. And she will. It is a mathematical certainty."

Ludwig turns back to look at the blue prints and looks as if he has been gutpunched. "How much time?"

"An hour," Ivan said. "Two at de most." There was a silent pause from all four of them… the clock was already ticking away beneath their grasp and they can't stop it.

"And how many aboard, Mr. Honda?" asked the Captain.

"…Two thousand two hundred souls aboard, sir."

There was a long silent beat… and finally Ludwig turns to his employer. "I believe you may get your headlines, Mr. Braginski."

***

Moments later, on the boat deck, Honda strides along the deck as seamen and officers scurry to uncover the lifeboats. Steam was venting from pipes on the funnels overhead, and the din was horrendous. Speech was difficult adding to the crew's level of disorganization. Ludwig sees some men fumbling with the mechanism of one of the Wellin davits and yells to them over the roar of steam.

"Turn to the right!" he yells, "Pull the falls taut before you unchock." He instructs. "Have you never had a boat drill?"

"No sir! Not with these new davits, sir."

He looks around, disgusted as the crew fumbles with the davits and the tackle for the _falls – _the ropes which were used to lower the boats. A few passengers were coming out on deck, hesitantly in the noise and bitter cold. This was going to be harder than he thought.

***

Back at the Bonnefoy suite, from inside the sitting room you could hear knocking and muffled voices out in the corridor. Francis stands there, looking vile at his fiancé. The tension in the room could not have been tenser. The Frenchman crosses to Arthur and regards him coldly for a moment … and without warning he slaps him across the face, back handed.

"It is a little slut, isn't it?" Francis spat.

Arthur was silent, the painful throb on his cheek was nothing compared to the blow his heart has taken. Francis grabs him by the shoulders roughly.

"Look at me, you little—"

There was a sudden loud knock on the door and an urgent voice. The door opens and Steward Torris puts his head in. "Sir, I've been told to ask you to please put on your lifebelt, and come up to the boat deck."

"Get out, s'il vous plaît. We're busy."

Torris persists, coming in to get the lifebelts down from the top of a dresser. "I'm sorry about the inconvenience, Monsieur Bonnefoy, but it's Captain's orders. Please dress warmly, it's quite cold tonight."

"This is ridiculous…" Francis pulls on his own hair and leaves the sitting room.

Torris sees the rather distraught look on Arthur's face and assumes it must be because of the Captain's orders, so he hands him a life belt. "Not to worry sir, I'm sure it's just a precaution…"

In the corridor of the first class suites, outside, the stewards are being so polite and obsequious they are conveying no sense of danger whatsoever.

***

However, it's another story in the Steerage Berthing Aft…

"Everybody up. Let's go. Put your lifebelts on." A lazy but hurried drone sounded when a steward bangs open a Third class compartment door, awaking the inhabitants there. In the corridor outside, another steward is going from door to door along the hall, pouncing and yelling.

"Lifebelts on. Lifebelts on. Everybody up, come on. Lifebelts on..."

People come out of the doors behind the steward, perplexed. In the foreground a Syrian woman asks her husband what was said. He shrugs.

***

"CQD… sir?" Hercules, the Junior Wireless Operator looked up at the Captain, a bit perplexed.

"That's right. The distress call." Ludwig nods, and sets the piece of paper down on the wooden table of the transmitter room. "CQD. Tell whoever responds that we are going down by the head and need immediate assistance."

Ludwig's face could not be painted. It was stony and his eyes were unfocused. Yet he still gave off an air of cool and calm… it was a different story inside his head. His heart was breathing too fast and his skin was tight. Feliciano was still no where to be seen… What's taking him? He shakes his head and takes his leave.

"Dear God…" Hercules blinked and pulls the piece of telegram paper towards him and turns to face Sadiq who sat beside him. "We might as well do as he says."

Sadiq nods. "Maybe you ought to try that new distress call... S.O.S." he said, grinning awkwardly. "It may be our only chance to use it."

They laugh in spite of themselves and Hercules starts sending history's first S.O.S.

"_Dit dit dit, da da da, dit dit dit_..." over and over. sup[1]/sup

***

Ivan Braginski looked around in amazement as he stepped outside. The air was still cold but there was hardly any breeze because the ship was in a complete stop. The deck was empty except for the crew fumbling with the davits.

"Vhere are all de passengers?" He yells over the roar of the steam to First Officer Honda.

"They've all gone back inside." Honda said, equally yelling. "Too cold and noisy for them."

Ivan frowns. He felt like he is in a bad dream. He looks at his pocketwatch and heads for the foyer entrance.

***

In the A-Deck Foyer, A large number of First Class passengers have gathered near the grand staircase. Some of them were getting indignant about the confusion as they walked around drinking glasses of champagne and brandy while they wait. Elizaveta who was dressed in a formal dinner gown snags the collar of a passing steward.

"May I ask what's going on?" inquired the Hungarian lady, "You've got us all trussed up and now we're cooling our heels."

The young steward backs away, actually stumbling on the stairs. "Sorry, ma'am. Let me go and find out."

The jumpy piano rhythm of "Alexander's Ragtime Band" comes out of the first class lounge a few yards away. Band leader Wallace Hartley has assembled some of his men on Captain's orders, to allay panic. Francis's entourage comes up to the A-deck foyer. He carries the lifebelts, almost as an afterthought as Arthur walks beside him in a stunned zombified state.

"It's just the God damned English doing everything by the book." Francis scoffs.

"There's no need for language, Mr. Bonnefoy." regarded Roderich. He then turns to one of their maid servants "Go back and turn the heater on in my room, so it won't be too cold when we get back."

The maid nods and hustles off.

Just then, Mr. Braginksi enters the foyer, looking around the magnificent room, which he now know, would be doomed. Arthur, standing nearby, sees his heartbroken expression and walks over to him and Francis follows. Arthur gently grabs Ivan's forearm and speaks in a hushed urgent tone.

"I saw the iceberg, Mr. Braginski." Arthur said. "And I see it in your eyes. Please… tell me the truth."

Ivan's expression fell even further and locks his eyes with Arthur. "Da ship… vill sink." It was very difficult for him to even say that one single phrase.

Arthur's eyes brightened in dreaded realization. "You're certain?

"Yes. In an hour or so... all dis... vill be at da bottom of de Atlantic."

"Mon Dieu…" Francis whispers beside them. Now it's his turn to look stunned. "The Titanic? Sinking?"

"Please tell only who you must," Ivan continued on in an urgent tone. "I don't vant to be rresponsible forr a panik. Get to a boat quickly. Don't wait. You rremember vhat I told you about da boats?"

"Yes," Arthur nodded. "I understand. Thank you."

Ivan then goes off, moving among the passengers and urging them to put on their lifebelts and get to the boats.

***

A several decks below, Zwingly and the Master at Arms handcuff Alfred to a 4 by 4 water pipe. The Swiss body guard was keeping himself from smirking with relish as he takes off his white beret and sets it on the mahogany office table. Alfred had stopped with his hysterics and was glaring daggers at him. Somehow he knew that the bodyguard had something to do with the necklace in his pocket.

"Go on. I'll keep an eye on him." said Vash as he pulls a pearl handled Colt .45 automatic from under his coat. The Master at Arms nods and tosses the handcuff key to Lovejoy, then exits with a crewman. Zwingly flips the key in the air and catches it with ease.

"I believe we shall have a splendid time together." said Zwingly.

Alfred glares even harder even through his askewed glasses.

Back at the Bridge, Junior Wireless Operator Karpusi relays a message to Captain Smith from the Cunard Liner Carpathia. He holds out a short telegram to the Captain and speaks in an easy tone.

"Carpathia says they're making 17 knots, full steam for them, sir." said Hercules.

"And she's the only one who's responding?" Ludwig takes the telegram and reads it.

"She's the only one close, sir." The operator nods, "They say they can be here in four hours."

"Four hours!?" Ludwig's icy blue eyes widened and turned even icier. The enormity of it hits him like a sledgehammer blow. His right gloved hand clenched to ease himself and nods. "Thank you, Karpusi."

Just as Karpusi makes his exit, Ludwig faces the railing and grips the edge of it tightly, making his knuckles whiter than they should be. It had already been too late and nothing could stop this inevitable predicament now. This was far beyond him and the weight of responsibility and guilt were slowly starting to kick in… Two thousand two hundred souls…

"Mein Gott…"

***

Chaos ensues down below at the Steerage Berthing Aft corridor, leading to the stair wells. Stewards were pushing their way through narrow corridors clogged with people carrying suitcases, duffel bags and young children. Some have lifebelts on, others don't. People were running around in all directions speaking several languages and almost no one could understand each other by the level of the noise.

Feliciano and Gilbert push past the stewards, going the other way. They reach a huge crowd gathered at the bottom of the Main 3rd Class stairwell and Gilbert pushes to where he can see what's holding up the group. There is a steel gate across the top of the stairs, with several stewards and seamen on the other side.

"What is'a going on?" asked Felciano. "Capitano said we should be up in the Boat deck as quickly as possible."

Gilbert shrugs at him. "Beats me, these bastards won't let anyone out."

"Stay calm, please." says one steward, "It's not time to go up to the boats yet."

Beside Gilbert, an Irish mother stands stoically with her 5 year old son, Peter and their battered luggage. Peter looked confused, anxious and bored as he looked at the chaos around him. He tugs on his mother's skirt and pouts.

"What are we doing, mummy?" Peter asks like a child who was woken up from his sleep has gotten annoyed.

"We're just waiting, dear." says his mother, "When they finish putting First Class people in the boats, they'll be startin' with us, and we'll want to be all ready, won't we?"

Peter rubs his eyes and nods sleepily.

***

Water was already rising up along the rows of portholes angling down into the ocean. Under the surface, they glow green. Alfred peeks out of the round window, looking apprehensive. It didn't take a genius to know what was slowly happening to the ship. The American sits chained to the waterpipe, next to the porthole. The Swiss bodyguard was siting on the edge of the office desk, looking bored but mainly enjoying himself as he watched Alfred squirm. He puts a .45 bullet on the desk and watches it roll across and fall off and picks it up when it reaches the edge.

"You know... I believe this ship may sink." said Vash in a pleasant sarcastic way. He picks up his beret and puts it back on as he crosses towards Alfred. "I've been asked to give you this small token of our appreciation..."

He punches the American hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Alfred reels, but did not give him the pleasure of making a hurt sound.

"Compliments of Monsieur Francis Bonnefoy."

Zwingly flips the handcuff key in the air, catches it and puts it in his pocket. He exits the office and Alfred is left gasping, handcuffed to the pipe.

* * *

AN: O.M.G. I am soooO sorry if this chapter is too short a;sdfkjaskldfjlksalaskdfj D; But I have to keep the suspense intact… and I wouldn't want to end this too soon. ;w; GAH And SORRY if it took me too long to post this up too! I haven't been writing that much because I am totally swamped with college work, like I said before.

So here's my suggestion… **WHY DON'T YOU GUYS GIVE ME A DEADLINE????** So I could finish this fic in time and you guys wouldn't have to worry. X___x I work well under time pressure. So, it'll solve my lack of motivation to write.

Aside from that I've started writing a new fic.. uhm, I dunno if it will be multichaptered but it's about D-Day. :D

*Notes: [1] Titanic was the first ship ever in modern history to ever use the "S.O.S." code. That's why it became such a popular term in the 1900's to the turn of the century.


	10. The Surging Waters

Chapter X: The Surging Waters

At the Boat Deck, Officer Honda has his boats swung out. He stood amidst a crowd of uncertain passengers in all states of dress and undress. One first class woman was barefoot, others were in stockings, the maitre'd of the restaurant was in top hat and overcoat. Others were still in evening dress, while some are in bathrobes and kimonos. Women are wearing lifebelts over velvet gowns, then topping it with sable stoles. Some brought jewels, others books, even small dogs. Officer Honda sees Captain Ludwig walking stiffly toward him and he quickly goes to him.

"Hadn't we better get the 1st Class into the boats, sir?" Honda yells into the Captain's ear, through cupped hands, over the roar of the steam...

Ludwig just nods, a bit abstractly. The fire has gone out of him. Honda sees the awesome truth in the Captain's face… He turns back to the crowd and starts to yell over the din.

"Right! Start the loading! 1st Class passengers only!" The appalling din of escaping steam abruptly cuts off, leaving a sudden unearthly silence in which Honda's voice echoes.

***

After a while, The Wallace Hartley quintet has stepped on the boat deck, reassembling just outside the First Class Entrance, port side, near where Officer Honda was calling for the boats to be loaded. They strike up a waltz, lively and elegant. The music wafts all over the ship. Francis, Arthur, Roderich along with Elizaveta come out of the doors near the band.

"My brooch," Elizaveta exclaimed. "I left my brooch. I must have it!"

She turns back to go to her room but Roderich takes her by the arm, refusing to let her go. The firmness of his hold surprises her.

"Stay here, Elizaveta"

Elizaveta sees his expression, and knows fear for the first time.

By this time Boat 7 is less than half full, with 28 aboard a boat made for 65.

"Lower away!" Honda yells, "By the left and right together, steady lads!"

The boat lurches as the falls start to pay out through the pulley blocks. The passengers gasp and were terrified. The boat descends, swaying and jerking, toward the water 60 feet below.

At the stairwell rail on the bridge wing, Second Officer Sadiq and the Quartermaster light the first distress rocket. It shoots into the sky and explodes with a thunderclap over the ship, sending out white starbursts which light up the entire deck as they fall.

Ivan Braginski's face was lit up at the starbursts at the Boat deck, port side. The Managing Director of White Star

Line is cracking. His amethyst eyes were somber as he watched the crowd along deck moved lazily onto the lifeboats. First Officer Honda was now loading the boat nearest to Francis and Arthur. Another rocket bursts overhead, lighting the crowd. Startled faces turn upward. Wonder and curiosity were in their eyes.

Arthur watches the farewells taking place right in front of him as they step closer to the boat. Husbands saying goodbye to wives and children. Lovers and friends parted. Nearby, Elizaveta is getting a reluctant woman to board the boat.

"Come on, you heard the man." She said. "Get in the boat."

Roderich was looking around the crowd, as if he was unaffected by the activities happening.

"Will the lifeboats be seated according to class?" he asked around. "I hope they're not too crowded— "

"Oh, Father…" Arthur looks at him as if in disbelief and shakes his head. "SHUT UP!"

Roderich freezes at his son's loud voice.

"Don't you understand?" Arthur's voice turns almost into a desperate hiss. "The water is freezing and there aren't enough boats… not enough by half. Half the people on this ship are going to die…"

"Not the better half." Francis scoffed behind him.

Arthur turns to look at Francis, his eyes widening. The realization hits him like a thunderbolt. Alfred was in Third class. He doesn't stand a chance! Another rocket bursts overhead, bathing his face in white light.

"You unimaginable bastard…" his voice was cold as ice.

"Come on, Roderich dear, get in the boat." Elizaveta beckons him, "These are the first class seats right up here. That's it."

Roderich gets to the boat, his face stunned and fear was already in his eyes. He looks at Arthur hopefully

"Come on, Arthur. You're next" Elizaveta said, handing him her hand.

Arthur steps back, shaking his head.

"Arthur, get in the boat!" Roderich commanded.

"Goodbye… father." Arthur turns his heel and plunges into the waiting crowd.

Roderich, standing in the tippy lifeboat, can do nothing. Francis was able to grab Arthur's arm but he pulls free and walks away through the crowd. The Frenchman catches up to him and grabs Arthur again, roughly.

"Where the hell are you going?" Francis said, "To him? Is that it? To be a whore to that gutter rat?"

"I'd rather be his whore than be yours." Arthur dared to answer.

Francis clenches his jaw and squeezes his arm viciously, pulling him back toward the lifeboat. Arthur struggles then hawks down and spits at Francis right at his face, just how Alfred had taught him. Francis lets go with a curse, wiping his face disgustedly, and Arthur runs into the crowd.

"Lower away!!" Officer Honda yelled and Boat number 6 was lowered rather jauntingly.

"Arthur!" Roderich yells. "ARTHUR!"

Elizaveta pulls him to sit down beside her. "Be quiet Roderich, Arthur's going to be fine. He can think for himself."

The boat lurches downward as the falls are paid out.

Arthur runs through clusters of people dodging them and pushing them aside rather rudely. He looks back and sees a furious Francis coming after him. He turns into a sprint and dashes through the First Class entrance. Francis breaks free from the two men who was blocking him and reaches the entrance, but runs into a knot of people coming out. He pushes rudely through them impatiently.

By the time Francis runs in, down to the landing, and pushing past the gentlemen and ladies who are filling up the stairs, he scans the A-deck foyer.

Arthur had already disappeared.

***

Down below… down down below, in the Master at Arms Quarters… Alfred pulls on the pipe with all his strength. It's not budging. He hears gurgling sound somewhere and he turns to look for it. Water was pouring under the slit of the door, spreading rapidly across the floor.

"Shit." Was all that he could say, he tries to pull one hand out of the cuffs, working until the skin is raw… no good. "Help!! Somebody!! Can anybody hear me?!"

The Corridor outside was deserted, flooded a couple of inches deep. Alfred's voice comes faintly through the door, but there was no one to hear it. For a while no one answered… it was just dead silence and the sound of the Atlantic waters slowly rushing in.

"This could be bad…"

***

Ivan Braginski was walking frantically through the First Class corridor, opening stateroom doors to check that people are out. He moves calmly yet his nerves were a jumble of worry.

"Anyone in here?" He calls out.

His breath was caught in his throat when he felt a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn around. He faces the stranger to find that it was Arthur, breathless and panting, his clothes a bit worn. His green eyes were wild and desperate.

"Mr. Braginski, thank God! Where would the Master at Arms take someone under arrest?" Arthur asked, hurriedly without even stopping to breathe.

"Vhat? You have to get to a boat rright away!" Ivan argued and grabs Arthur by the wrist.

"No!" Arthur yelled, yanking his wrist back. "I'll do this with or without your help, sir. But without will take longer."

There was a long and silent beat between the two of them. Ivan was contemplating which one was the right thing to do.

"Take the elevator," The Russian said after a while, feeling exasperated. "to the very bottom, go left, down the crewman's passage, then make a right."

"Bottom, left, right. I have it." Arthur nodded impatiently.

"Hurry, Arthur."

***

By the time Arthur finally got to the foyer of elevators he runs up as the last Elevator Operator was closing up his lift to leave.

"Sorry sir, lifts are closed—" said Feliks, the Polish operator

Without thinking Arthur grabs him and shoves him back into the lift. "I'm through with being polite, goddamnit!!" he lets go of the man's collar forcefully. "Now take me down!!"

The operator fumbles to close the gate and start the lift. Soon they start to descend. Arthur's insides moved with a jolt as the lift started. He was way passed beyond common thinking. Through the wrought iron door of the elevator car, Arthur could see the decks going past. A couple of them having no lights at all. Finally the lift slows … and suddenly ice water was swirling around his legs. He gasps in surprise and Feliks screams beside him. The car has landed in a foot of freezing water, shocking the hell out of them.

"I-I'm going back up!" says Feliks, frantically fumbling for the levers.

"No!!!" Arthur prevents him from going just yet and claws the metal door open and splashes out into the flooded corridor.

"I'm going back up! I'm sorry!" The operator apologizes several times but Arthur could care less. The lift goes back up, behind him, as he looks around.

"Left, crew passage…crew passage" he mutters under his breath. The cold waters were already numbing his legs. He spots the passage and slogs down the flooded corridor. He turns into a cross-corridor, splashing down the hall. A row of doors on

each side.

"Al…? Alfred!!?" he shouts.

In the Master at Arms office, Alfred is hopelessly pulling on the pipe again, straining until he turns red. He collapses back on the bench, realizing he's screwed. Then, with a sudden wave of relief he hears Arthur's voice through the door.

"ARTHUR!! In here!"

In the hall Arthur hears his voice behind him. He spins and runs back, locating the right door, then pushes it open, creating a small wave. Al's blue eyes light up once he sees it was really Arthur. The Englishman splashes over Alfred and puts his arms around him.

"Oh Alfred… Al… Al… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Arthur couldn't help himself from kissing Alfred's face all over.

"I swear Arthur," Al managed to say between the kisses. "That guy Zwingly put it in my pocket."

"I know, I know."

Arthur held onto the American for a while longer and he stood back so they could see each other.

"See if you can find a key for these." Al gestures to the cuffs on his wrist. "Try those drawers. Its a little brass one."

"Alright." Arthur kisses his face and hugs him again, then starts to go through the desk.

"So... how did you find out I didn't do it?" Alfred asked as he watched the other man looking frantically.

"I didn't." Arthur said simply and pauses on his search. "I just realized I already knew."

They share a look, then he goes back to ransacking the room, searching drawers and cupboards. Alfred sees movement out the porthole and looks out. A lifeboat hits the surface of the water, seen from below.

"There's no key in here."

They look around at the water, now almost two feet deep. Alfred has pulled his feet up onto the bench.

"You have to go for help."

Arthur nods determinedly. "I'll be right back."

"I'll wait here."

He runs out, looking back at him once from the doorway, then splashes away. Alfred looks down at the swirling water.

***

Arthur splashes down the hall to a stairwell going up to the next deck. He bounds up the stairs to find himself in a long corridor... part of the labyrinth of steerage hallways forward. He was alone here. A long groan of stressing metal echoes along the hall as the ship continues to settle. Arthur runs down the hall, unimpeded now.

"Hello? Somebody!"

He turns a corner and runs along another corridor in a daze. The hall slopes down into water which, shimmers, reflecting the light. The margin of the water creeps toward him. A young man appears, running through the water, sending up geysers of spray. He pelts past him without slowing, his eyes crazed...

"Help me! We need help!" Arthur calls after him

He doesn't look back. It is like a bad dream. The hull gongs with terrifying sounds. The lights flicker and go out, leaving utter darkness. There were a few long seconds of blackness… Then they come back on. He finds himself hyperventilating. That one moment of blackness was the most terrifying of his life.

A steward runs around the nearest corner, his arms full of lifebelts. It was Torris. He looked upset to see someone still in this section. He grabs Arthur forcefully by the arm, pulling him with him like a wayward child.

"Come on, then, let's get you topside, sir."

"Wait. Wait!" Arthur tries to yank him back. "I need your help! There's— "

"No need for panic, sir. Come along!"

"No, let me go! You're going the wrong way!"

Torris wasn't listening. And he won't let him go. He shouts at the steward's ear, and when he turns, he punches him squarely in the nose. Shocked, he lets him go and staggers back.

"To Hell with you…" The steward runs off, holding his bloody nose.

Then… he was alone again. His shoulders slumped as if he has lost all hope. Arthur then turns around and his eyes caught and sees a glass case with a fire-axe in it. He breaks the glass with a battered suitcase which is lying discarded nearby, and seizes the axe, running back the way he came.

At the stairwell he looks down and gasps. The water has flooded the bottom five steps. He goes down and has to crouch to look along the corridor to the room where Alfred was trapped. Without even a second thought, he plunges into the water, which was up to his waist... and powers forward, holding the axe above his head in two hands. He grimaces at the pain

from the literally freezing water. When he finally makes it into the office Alfred has climbed up on the bench, and was hugging the waterpipe.

Arthur wades in, holding the axe above his head. "Will this work?"

"We'll find out."

They were both obviously terrified, but trying to keep panic at bay. Alfred positions the chain connecting the two cuffs, stretching it taut across the steel pipe. The chain is of course very short, and his exposed wrists are on either side of it. Arthur gulps.

"Try a couple practice swings first." Alfred suggests.

Arthur hefts the axe and thunks it into a wooden cabinet.

"Good. Now try to hit the same mark again."

He swings hard and the blade thunks in four inches from the mark.

"Okay," Al sucks in a breath. "I think that's enough practice."

Alfred winces, bracing himself as Arthur raises the axe. He has to hit a target about an inch wide with all the force he can muster, with Alfred's hands on either side.

"You can do it, Arthur." Alfred sounded calm. "Hit it as hard as you can, I trust you."

The American closes his eyes. So does Arthur.

The axe comes down and… K-WHANG! Arthur gingerly opens his eyes and looks... Alfred was grinning with two separate cuffs. He drops the axe, all the strength going out of him.

"Jesus bleedin' Christ." Arthur takes in a relieved breath.

"Nice work, there, Paul Bunyan."Alfred climbs down into the water next to him. He can't breathe for a second as his feet his the water. "Shit! Excuse my French. Ow ow ow, that is cold! Come on, let's go."

They wade out into the hall. Arthur starts toward the stairs going up, but Al stops him. There was only about a foot of the stairwell opening visible.

"Too deep." Al said. "We gotta find another way out."

***

The painted letters of "TITANIC" was now only two feet high on the bow of the doomed steamer. Once 50 feet above the waterline, they now quietly slip below the surface. They turn gold on black, rippling and dimming to a pale green as they go deeper.

In boat 6, Roderich looks back at the Titanic, transfixed by the sight of the dying liner. The bowsprit is now barely above the waterline. Another of Boxhall's rockets explodes overhead. K-BOOM! It lights up the whole area, and half a dozen boats in the water, spreading out from the ship were lighted and reveiled.

"Now there's something you don't see every day." Elizaveta whispered solemnly next to him.

* * *

AN: I have no excuse. Life has pretty much caught up with me and I wasn't able to write in my free time. No, I did not include the principal rule of "women and children in the lifeboats first" or else it'll mess the whole thing up. This is a fan fic after all, and I'm not aiming for historic accuracy in some parts. So if I here anymore whining about that detail, I shall jump off a cliff and would not be able to finish this fic at all. Worry not because I've already written the last succeeding chapters of this fic. I'm just going to wait awhile to get them BETA-ed and upload them.

I promise the next chapter would be a lot more interesting.

Cheers!


	11. The Lifeboats

Chapter XI: The Lifeboats

Scotland Road E-Deck was the widest passageway in the ship. It was used by crew and steerage alike, and runs almost the length of the ship. Right now steerage passengers move along it like refugees, heading aft carrying whatever they could carry on their backs.

CRASH!

A wooden doorframe splinters and a wall door bursts open under the force of Al's shoulder. Alfred and Arthur stumble through, into the corridor. A steward, who was nearby herding people along, marches over to them.

"Hey you! You'll have to pay for that, you know. That's White Star Line property—"

They both turned around together at the crewman and barked, "Shut up!"

Alfred led Arthur past the dumbfounded steward. They join the steerage stragglers going aft. In places, the corridor was almost completely blocked by large families carrying their luggage.

***

On the Boat Deck, the action has moved to the aft group of boats, numbers 9, 11, 13 and 15 on the starboard side, and 10, 12, 14 and 16 on the port side. The pace of work has become more frantic. You could see the crew and officers running now to work the davits, their previous complacency gone.

Francis pushes through the crowd, scanning for Arthur. All around him was chaos and confusion. A woman was calling for a child who has become separated from the crowd. A man was shouting over people's heads incoherently. A woman takes hold of Second Officer Sadiq's arm as he was about to launch Boat 10.

"Will you hold the boat a moment?" said the woman. "I have to run back to my room for something –"

Sadiq, looking a bit pissed, grabs her and shoves her bodily into the boat. Ivan Braginski rushes up to him just then.

"Vhy are de boats being launched half full?!" the Russian demanded.

Sadiq steps past him, helping a seaman clear a snarled rope. "Not now, Mr. Braginski."

"There, look..." Ivan points down to the black water. "Twenty orr so in a boat built for sixty five. And I saw one boat vith only twelve. Twelve!"

"Well... we were not sure of the weight—"

"Rubbish!" Ivan spat at him. "They were tested in Belfast vith de weight of 70 men. Now fill these boats, Mr. Sadiq. For God's sake, man!"

Francis was observing the exchange between the two men and then he spots Zwingly hurrying toward him through the aisle connecting the port and starboard sides of the boat deck.

"He's not on the starboard side either, sir." reported the Swiss.

"We're running out of time." Francis says in a hurried hushed tone. "And this strutting martinet..." he gestures to Sadiq, "isn't letting any one in at all."

"The one on the other side is letting more people on."

"Then that's our play. But we're still going to need some insurance." said Francis confidently and starts off forward. "Come along." Francis charges off, heading forward, followed by Zwingly.

***

The place where Alfred and Arthur first kissed, the bow railing, was now completely submerged. Water swirls around the capstans and windlasses on the foc'sle deck.

Ludwig strides to the bridge rail and looks down at the Well Deck. The water shipped over the sides and the well deck was awash. Two men run across the deck, their feet sending up spray. Behind Ludwig, another distress rocket fires and bursts and he turns to look at it. Ludwig's face was washed with white light and was deathly pale. It was out of his hands now… and he now knew what his fate would resign him to…

***

"Feliciano! Felli!"

Feliciano turns and sees Alfred with Arthur pushing through the crowd at the E-Deck corridor stairwell. He and Al hug like brothers once they reached him.

"The boats, they are all going!" the Italian said in a panicked tone

"We gotta get up there or we're gonna be gargling saltwater." said Al, "Where's Gilbert?"

Felicano points over the heads of the solidly packed crowd to the stairwell. Gilbert, wearing his buffered lifebelt, has his hands on the bars of the steel gate which blocks the head of the stairwell. The crew opened the gate a foot or so and only a few persons could squeeze through.

One steward tries to shout over the crowd "One at a time only! Please!"

But some terrified people, not understanding English, try to rush through the gap, forcing the gate open. The crewmen and stewards push them back, shoving and punching at them.

"Get back! Get back you lot!" another steward shouts, then he turns to his other crewmen. "Lock it!!"

They struggle to get the gate closed again, while the steward brandishes a small revolver. Another holds a fire axe. They lock the gate, and a cry goes up among the crowd, who surge forward, pounding against the steel and shouting in several languages.

"For the love of God, man, there are women and children down here!" Gilbert yells over the noise of the pressing crowd. "Let us up, so we can have a chance!"

But the crewmen were scared now. They have let the situation get out of hand, and now they have a mob. Gilbert gives up and pushes his way back through the crowd, going down the stairs. He rejoins Alfred, Arthur and Feliciano.

"It's hopeless that way." Gilbert said grumpily.

"Well, whatever we're goin' to do, we better do it fast." said Al.

***

CLUNK!

Francis opens the safe in his luxurious suite and reaches inside. Vash watches him, as he pulls out two stacks of bills, still banded by bank wrappers. Then he takes out the precious necklace, the _Heart of the Ocean_, out of its velvet box and puts it in the pocket of his overcoat, then locks the safe.

"I make my own luck." said Francis, holding up two stacks of bills.

"So do I." Vash puts his Colt .45 caliber in his waistband.

Francis grins, putting the money in his pocket as they go out.

***

Alfred, Arthur, Feliciano and Gilbert were lost, searching for a way out. They push past confused passengers... past a mother changing her baby's diaper on top of an upturned steamer trunk... past a woman arguing heatedly with a man in Serbo-Croatian, a wailing child next to them... past a man kneeling to console a woman who was just sitting on the floor, sobbing... and past another man with an English/Arabic dictionary, trying to figure out what the signs mean, while his wife and children wait patiently.

They come upon a narrow stairwell and they go up two decks before they were stopped by a small group pressed up against a steel gate. The steerage men were yelling at a scared Torris. His bloody nose has been wiped clean, but a crust of blood remains.

"Go to the main stairwell, with everyone else. It'll all get sorted out there." he tried to say calmly.

Alfred takes one look at this scene and finally just loses it. He growls and squeezes forward, gripping the steel gate and yells like an animal, shaking the bars wildly. "GOD DAMN IT SON OF SON OF A BITCH!!"

He goes back and grabs one end of a bench bolted to the floor on the landing. He starts pulling on it, and Gilbert and Feliciano pitch in until the bolts shear and the bench breaks free. Arthur figures out what they were planning to do and clears a path up the stairs between the waiting people.

"Move aside!" Arthur yells to the crowd "Quickly, move aside!"

Alfred and Gilbert run up the steps with the bench, and with both their force, they ram the wooden bench into the steel gate. The screws rip loose from its track and the wooden furniture falls outward, narrowly missing Torris. A great cheer was heard and the crowd surges though the twisted hole the bench has created, led by Alfred. Arthur steps up to the cowering steward and says in his most imperious tone:

"If you have any intention of keeping your pathetic job with the White Star Line, I suggest you escort these good people to the boat deck... now."

Torris nods dumbly and motions for them to follow.

***

Francis and Zwingly walk aft with a purposeful stride. Panic was setting in around the remaining boats aft. The crowd here was now a mix of all three classes. Officers repeatedly warn the stampeding crowd back from the boats, but the crowd presses in closer. A seaman brandishes the oars of boat 14 to discourage a close press of men who looked ready to rush the boat. Several men break ranks and rush forward. Sadiq pulls out his revolver and aims it at them.

"Get back! Keep order!" he barks. The men back down.

Fifth Officer Hercules standing in the boat, yells to the crew. "Lower away left and right together! Steady now…"

Sadiq turns away from the crowd and, out of their sight, breaks his pistol open. Letting out a long breath, he starts to load the gun with bullets.

On the other side of the ship Francis and Zwingly arrive in time to see Officer Honda lowering his last boat.

"We're too late." said Francis.

"There are still some boats forward." informed Vash, "Stay with this one. Honda… He seems to be quite... practical."

***

In the water below, another panic seems to upraise itself. Boat 13, already in the water but still attached to its falls, was pushed aft by the discharged water being pumped out of the ship. It winds up directly under boat 15, which was coming down right on top of it. The passengers shout in panic to the crew above to stop lowering. They were ignored. Some men put their hands up, trying futilely to keep the 5 ton boat from crushing them.

A stoker gets out his knife and leaps to the after falls, climbing rudely over people. He cuts the aft falls while another crewman cuts the forward lines. Boat 13 drifts out from beneath 15, just seconds before it touches the water with a slap.

Francis, looking down from the rail hears gunshots…

Second Officer Sadiq Annan, in Boat 14 was now firing his gun as a warning to a bunch of men threatening to jump into the boat as it passes the open promenade on A-Deck.

"Stay back you lot!" he snarls.

BANG…! BANG…!

The shots echo away.

"It's starting to fall apart." whispered Francis, his blue eyes were astonished at the whole chaos in front of him as if he hasn't notice it's been happening all this time. "We don't have much time."

The Frenchman sees three dogs run by, including the black French bulldog. Someone has released the pets from the kennels. He sees Officer Honda turn from the davits of boat 15 and start walking toward the bow. Francis, ever the sly one, catches up and falls in beside him.

"Mr. Honda," he calls, "I'm a businessman, as you know, and I have a business proposition for you…"

***

Alfred and the others finally burst out onto the boat deck from the crew stairs just aft of the third funnel. They look at the empty davits with limp ropes hanging from their pulleys.

"The boats are gone!" Arthur curses under his breath, his eyebrows screwing together. He sees Colonel Cerrido chugging forward along the deck, escorting two first class ladies. "Sir Antonio! Colonel! Are there any boats left?"

The Spaniard stares at his bedraggled state. "Yes, Arthur... there are still a couple of boats all the way forward. This way, I'll lead you!"

Alfred doesn't give the man a chance to lead him and grabs Arthur's hand. They sprint past Antonio, with Gilbert and Feliciano close behind. The quintet band was still, incredibly playing as Alfred, Arthur and the others run past.

"Music to drown by." said Gilbert, humorlessly, "Now I know I'm in First Class."

* * *

AN: Another week, another chapter. Now isn't that lovely? Sorry, I changed the title of Chapter 10 because I felt that the title, "The Lifeboats", fitted this chapter better. Hope that's not confusing to you lot. And… I hope this isn't too much of a cliff hanger. Short chapter is short. I'm trying to drag the story out because everybody knows that the ending is near and I know that a whole mob of you would hunt me down after I finish posting the next few last chapters…

Would you guys like to have an epilogue?

Tell me what you guys think. Cheers! ;)


	12. You jump, I jump

Chapter XII: You jump, I jump

The water pours like a spillway over the forward railing on B-Deck. Past A-Deck to the Boat Deck where Officer Honda and his team were loading the collapsible boats to the forward-most davits, the crowd was sparse, with most people still aft. Francis slips his hand out of the pocket of his overcoat and into the waist pocket of Honda's greatcoat, leaving the stacks of bills there.

"So, do we have an understanding then?" the Frenchman says in a low tone so only he and Officer Honda could hear.

Honda only nods stiffly, without an expression on his face. "As you've said."

Francis, satisfied, steps back from him and Zwingly comes up to him at that moment.

"I've found him." Vash said, "He's just over on the port side. With him."

"God damn it to hell… Come on." He and the Swiss bodyguard head for the port side, taking a short-cut through the bridge.

***

On the portside, Sadiq was getting people into Boat 2. He keeps his pistol in his hand at this point. Twenty feet below them, the sea pours into the doors and windows of B-deck staterooms. They could hear the roar of water cascading like a wild waterfall into the ship.

"One at time only, please! One at a time. Step back, sir." Hercules yells over the noise.

All around him, Arthur felt himself go numb as tearful but quick goodbyes were said by families. Unconsciously, he clings onto Alfred, but even with Al's arms wrapped around him, Arthur still shivers from the cold. Alfred looks at Gilbert and Feliciano. Gilbert looked pissed and has his arms crossed on his chest; Feliciano on the other hand looked like he was almost at the brink of tears. The Italian's brown eyes were frantically darting everywhere at the chaos in the hopes of finding the Captain.

"You better check out the other side." Alfred said with calm urgency. Gilbert nodded at him and he takes Feliciano by the arm and runs off searching for a way around the deckhouse.

"I'm not going without you." Arthur whispered against him, clinging onto the American's shirt.

"Get in the boat, Arthur" Alfred's voice was dead serious.

"Yes. Get in the boat." The both of them were startled when a voice spoke behind them. Francis walks up to them just then. Arthur's green eyes looked shocked to see him and steps instinctively to Alfred. Francis looks at him, standing there shivering in his wet clothes.

"Mon Dieu, look at you." Francis takes off his warm coat and hands it to Arthur. "Here, put this on."

Arthur numbly shrugs into it. He does it for modesty, not the cold.

"Quickly," Hercules's voice sounded through the mega phone, beckoning for more passengers. "Step into the boat. Hurry, please!"

"Go on." Alfred whispered calmly beside him. "I'll get the next one."

"No. Not without you!" Arthur pleaded, clinging onto Alfred's shirt tighter. He doesn't give a damn that Francis was standing right there. The Frenchman sees the emotion shared between Alfred and Arthur and his jaw clenches. Keeping his urge to lash out and his temper at bay, he leans close to Arthur and says...

"There are more boats on the other side" he says as a matter-of-factly, "Monsieur Jones and I can get off safely. Both of us." he added.

"I'll be alright." Alfred smiles at him reassuringly, "Hurry up so we can get going... we got our own boat to catch."

"Get in... hurry up, it's almost full." Francis urges him to go.

Hercules grabs Arthur's arm and pulls him toward the boat. He reaches out for Alfred and his fingers brushes his for the slightest moment. Then he finds himself stepping down into the boat. It was all a rush and blur.

"Lower away!" Sadiq shouts at the crewmen to unroll the davits.

Arthur's greens eyes stare at Alfred and Francis, who were watching at the rail as the boat begins to descend.

"You're a good liar." Francis mutters next to Alfred.

"Almost as good as you." was Al's cocky reply.

"I always win, Alfred." Francis looks at him with a smile, "One way or another."

Alfred just stares at him coldly.

"Pity…" Francis continues, "I didn't keep that drawing. It's going to be worth a lot more by morning."

By this, Alfred knew he was screwed. He looks down at Arthur, not wanting to waste a second of his last view of him.

The ropes go through the pulleys as the seamen start to lower the boat. Arthur felt all the numbing sounds go away... He could see Sadiq giving orders, his lips moving but he couldn't hear what he was barking... He only hears the blood pounding in his ears... this cannot be happening... a rocket bursts above them again, outlining Alfred in a halo of light... Arthur could feel his own hair blowing in the soft breeze as he gazes up at him, descending away from him... he sees Alfred's hand tremble on the railing, and the threatening tears at the corners of his blue eyes. He couldn't believe the unbearable pain he was feeling...

Without his notice, Arthur didn't feel the tears that were pouring down on his cheeks as he gazed up.

The next thing he knew, he was moving. He lunges across the women next to him and he reaches the gunwale, climbing it... Arthur hurls himself out of the boat to the rail of the A-Deck promenade, catching it and scrambles over the rail. The Boat continues to descend down, but Arthur was back on Titanic.

"No Arthur! NO!!" Alfred spins from the rail, running for the nearest way down to A-Deck.

Francis too has seen him jump. Arthur was willing to die for this man, this gutter scum. The Frenchman was so overwhelmed by a rage so all consuming it eclipses all thought.

Alfred bangs through the doors to the foyer and sprints down the stairs. He sees Arthur coming into A-deck foyer, running toward him with Francis' long coat flying out behind him as he runs. They meet at the bottom of the stairs, and collide in an embrace.

"Arthur you're so stupid! you're such an idiot--!" growled Alfred, and all the while he's kissing him and holding him as tight as he could.

"You jump, I jump, right?" Arthur says breathlessly through the desperate kisses.

"…Right." was all that Al could say.

Francis enters the foyer at that moment and runs to the railing. He looks down only to see them locked in their embrace. Vash comes up behind him and puts a restraining hand on his shoulder and steers him out of the sight. Francis' hands had gone numb as he let Vash lead him away… For the first time in his life, Francis Bonnefoy has tasted defeat… No… This can't be… He cannot accept this. _Could not_ accept this. He will not admit defeat to a pathetic gutter rat! His fists clench on his sides…

Then suddenly, moving in a flash, Francis whips around, grabs the pistol from Vash's waistband and aims it at the two lovers. He runs along the rail then down the stairs. As he reaches the landing above them, he raises the gun. SCREAMING in rage, he fires.

The carved cherub at the foot of the center railing EXPLODES. Alfred pulls Arthur toward the stairs going down to the next deck to protect him just in time. Francis fires again, running down the steps toward them. A bullet blows a divet out of the oak paneling behind Al's head as he pulls Arthur down the next flight of stairs.

Francis steps on the skittering head of the cherub statue and trips, making him sprawl. The gun clatters across the marble floor. He gets up, and reeling drunkenly goes over to retrieve it.

The bottom of the grand staircase was flooded several feet deep. Alfred and Arthur come down the stairs two at a time and run straight into the freezing water, fording across the room to where the floor slopes up, until they reach dry footing at the entrance to the dining saloon.

Francis reels down the stairs in time to see them splashing through the water toward the dining saloon. He fires the gun twice. Big gouts of spray splash near the two, but it was not a great shot. The water surges up around his feet and he retreats up the stairs a couple of steps… suddenly the ship groans and creaks around him like a painful wail. He couldn't bring himself to plunge into the water as he watched the two of them make their escape.

With a defeated sigh he calls out, "I do hope you enjoy your time together!!"

His voice echoes through the hall. Francis had a look of a child who had just been denied of his favorite toy. Zwingly arrives next to him at that moment… There was a pause between them as Vash awaited for his orders. To his astonishment, Francis suddenly starts to laugh.

"What could possibly be funny?" asked Vash, with a stoic eyebrow raised.

"I put the diamond in my coat …" Francis snarls, realizing something. "And I put my coat... on him!"

***

Alfred and Arthur, holding each other's hands, run aft until Francis was out of sight... they run uphill... entering the galley. Behind them, the tables have become islands in a lake... and the far end of the room was flooded up to the ceiling. They run through the galley and Arthur spots the stairs. He starts up and Alfred suddenly grabs his hand. A long creaking groan echoes through the hull, then suddenly they could hear something feint…

It was a crying child.

Below them, they go down a few steps to look along the next deck. The corridor was awash, about a foot deep. Standing against the wall, about 50 feet away, was a little boy, about 3. The water swirls around his legs and he was wailing.

"We can't just leave him." said Arthur.

Alfred nods and they leave the promise of escape up the stairwell to run to the child. Alfred scoops up the kid and they run back to the stairs but-- A torrent of water comes pouring down the stairs like rapids in a river. In seconds it was too powerful for them to go against.

"SHIT! Come on!" Al shouted.

Charging the other way down the flooding corridor, they blast up spray with each footstep. At the end of the hall were heavy double doors. As Al approaches them he sees water spraying through the gap between the doors right up to the ceiling. The doors groan and start to crack under the tons of pressure.

"Back! Go back!!" Al shouts again.

Arthur pivots and runs back the way they came, taking a turn into a cross-corridor. A man comes the other way. He sees the boy in Alfred's arms and cries out, grabbing the child away from him. The man starts cursing him in Russian and runs with the boy to the double doors—

"No! Not that way! Come back!" Arthur tries to yell at them.

But it was all too late…The double doors burst open. A wall of water thunders into the corridor. The father and child disappear instantly, engulfed by the white waters. Alfred and Arthur run as a wave blasts around the corner, foaming from floor to ceiling. It gains on them as they make it to a stairway going up. They pound up the steps as white water swirls up behind them. A steel gate blocks the top of the stairs and they slam against it, gripping the bars.

Just then, a terrified steward standing guard on the landing above turns to run at the sight of the water thundering up the stairs.

"Wait! Wait!" Alfred calls out to him. "Help us! Unlock the gate!"

The steward runs on. The water wells up around Alfred and Arthur, pouring through the gate and slamming them against it. In seconds it was up to their waist.

"Help us! Please!" Arthur shouts.

The steward stops and looks back, revealing that it was Torris once again. He sees Alfred and Arthur at the gate, their arms reaching through... and sees the water pouring through the gate onto the landing.

"Bloody everlasting hell!" Torris cursed and he runs back feeling guilty, slogging against the current. He pulls a key ring from his belt and struggles to unlock the padlock as the water fountains up around them.

"Hurry please!"

Torris struggles to find the right key from the ring and tries several, but none of them could open the gate. His hands were going numb from the cold rush of water rising around them… until at last! He found the right key. He tries to insert it into the key hole, but his thumbs had lost their feeling and he drops the whole set of keys into the water. Torris' eyes grow wide, the color draining out from his face… Just then, the lights short out and the landing was plunged into darkness.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry, I can't help!" Torris apologizes over and over as he backs up onto the stairwell, stumbling then disappearing to escape.

Alfred and Arthur were now left alone in the dark, the surging freezing waters still rising around them. The lights flicker and crack as electric wires spark like lightning.

"Fuck." Al cursed.

He takes in a deep breath and dives into the cold waters to find the keys. His arm could only reach out from the bars of the steel gate as he feels the keys with his fingers. Arthur was holding on for dear life, trying to keep his head up on the surface up against the ceiling. Within seconds, Alfred found the keys and tries to insert it into the hole. His whole body was going numb and it took him a couple of tries until…

WOOSH!

Suddenly the gate gives and it swings open. Their bodies were pushed through by the force of the water. They make it to the stairs on the other side of the landing, soaking wet and cold to the bone.

***

Francis reels out of the first class entrance alone, looking wild-eyed. Somehow, he and Vash had been separated. The water lurches down the deck toward the bridge. Despite the entire predicament, waltz music wafts over the ship… Somewhere, the band was still playing a jumpy tune. To his side, Francis sees a little boy, around 5 years old.

It was Peter. His cheeks were stained with tears and he was crying along an alcove. He looks up at Francis beseechingly with his wide blue eyes. Francis moves on without a glance back... and reaches a large crowd clustered around a collapsible boat just aft of the bridge. He sees Officer Honda and a number of crewmen struggling to drag the boat to the davits, with no luck.

Francis pushes forward, trying to signal at Honda, but the officer ignores him. Nearby, Gilbert and Feliciano were being pushed forward by the crowd behind them. Officer Hercules and Sadiq had arrived just then on this side of the ship. They push the crowd back, getting a couple of seamen to help them. Sadiq brandishes his gun, waving it in the air, yelling for the crowd to stay back.

Officer Honda was no longer in control. The crowd was threatening to rush the boat. They push and jostle, yelling and shouting at the officers. The pressure from behind pushes them forward, and one guy falls off the edge of the deck with a scream and he splashes into the water less than ten feet below.

"Give us a chance to live, you limey bastards!" Gilbert growls, with the roar of the crowd behind him.

Suddenly, Honda fires his gun twice in the air, and points it at the mob. The whole crowd was silenced, the air around them became tense and the echoes of the gunshots became eerie.

"I'll shoot any man who tries to get past me." Honda's voice was quiet but stern. The crowd could hear him clearly through the tension now.

Francis steps up to him and hisses. "Come on man, we had a deal…!"

Honda shoves him back, and points his pistol at the Frenchman. "Your money cannot save you, more than it could save me…"

He takes the stack of money from his coat and throws it at Francis' feet, the bills scattering in the wind. Francis' face was in shock as the crowd goes rowdy again, engulfing him with noise.

"Get back!" Honda shouts again.

Without meaning too, a man next to Gilbert trips and rushes forward. He was shoved from behind to the front of the crowd. Officer Honda sees this motion, and with the instinct of his muscle, he pulls the trigger and SHOOTS the first man… There was a loud sounding blast that echoed… and then…

Gilbert stands there, with a look of shock on his face… He coughs up blood and collapses with a soft groan. A bullet was put straight to his chest.

"NOO!!!" Feliciano screams, brown eyes growing wide. He catches Gilbert as he falls, holding him in his arms as the Prussian's blood start to flow onto the wooden planks of the deck. "Ohh no… ohh noh… Dio mio…!"

It was all a rush and a blur. Everything happened so fast. The Italian's eyes were wide with tears and his whole body trembled with grief as he held his friend to his chest. His clothes were already being soaked with Gilbert's blood. Feliciano pulls at his own hair and gestures wildly at the mess. Gilbert's fierce eyes were still open in shock, staring blankly at the moonless sky… He was no longer breathing. The crowd goes silent once again, and only Feliciano's inaudible Italian sobs could be heard.

"What have you done??" Feliciano cries and glares at Honda with heavy tears in his eyes. "BASTARDO!"

Stunned, with the gun still held up, Officer Kiku Honda felt he couldn't breathe. He had just killed an innocent man. Now, there was another thing that he would feel himself being shameful and guilty about for the rest of his life. It was unhonorable… First, he had rammed the Grandest Ship of all time to its demise… and now _he had killed an innocent man_… Just one among the thousands of innocent souls who would die because of him…

Stiffly, Kiku turns to his men with a stoic face. He salutes smartly, then puts the pistol to his forehead…

"HONDA, NO!!" Hercules screams to stop him.

BANG!

Honda drops like a puppet with cut strings. He topples over the edge of the deck into the water only a few feet below with a splash. Hercules rushes to the edge and stares in horror at Kiku's body bobbing in the black water. A roar of confusion arose and officers try to yell and shout at the crowd, calling above the confusion. Sadiq shouts at the mega phone, trying to block the crowd from seeing Hercules looking down at the water.

And all the while Feliciano's sobs were drowned out by the raging crowd.

* * *

AN: So… do you guys hate me yet? I know that a lot of you would come to hunt me down and murder me by this time. Ehh, it's inevitable. Oh, but I think this is my favorite chapter to write. I just love the non-stop action don't you? We're only a few chapters to go my dears, so hold on to the edge of your seats. ;)

Got something to say? Tell me what you think!

Cheers!


	13. Nearer My God to Thee

AN: I didn't want to write this chapter, but it had to be done. The whole time I was listening to what the band was playing when the Titanic was sinking, Nearer my God to Thee, on its soundtrack. It was rather haunting and relaxing and I thought it would be the perfect title for this chapter. I suggest you guys listen to it while reading this.

http: // www. youtube. com/ watch? v=-lwAc5UDdL8

* * *

Chapter XIII: Nearer My God to Thee

Francis, who had quietly witnessed the gunplay in a stunned state, quickly slipped back from the crowd. This was his last chance to get to a boat. He remembers something suddenly... The child crying in the alcove! Quickly, he sprints back to look and sees that the little boy still crying there. Francis scoops him up and runs forward, cradling Peter in his arms.

Sadiq was shouting at the crowd, telling them to calm down as he slowly led some of the passengers to the boat one at a time. He made sure to block the view of Hercules staring down at the railing. It was a shame for him really… Honda was one of the best seamen he ever met.

"Here's a child!" Francis yells, squeezing his way forward to the boat. "I've got a child!" He shoves his way over to Sadiq and looks imploringly at him. "Please... I'm all he has in the world." He lied.

Sadiq nods curtly at him and pushes them into the boat. He spins with his gun, brandishing it in the air to keep the other men back. Hercules was still in shock but he managed to rip his eyes from the First Officer's dead body, floating in the ocean. His voice broke as he shouts at the crewmen to release and unroll the davits as if nothing had happened… as if the death of his comrade was nothing more than a memory.

Francis gets into the boat, holding the little boy securely on his lap. He takes a seat and rocks Peter in his arms to calm him. "Shh…There, there."

But the boy does not stop crying.

***

Ivan Braginski stands in front of the fireplace in the Smoking Room, staring at the large painting above the mantle. The fire was still going in the fireplace. It glowed with its embers still being licked by flames. The room was empty, except for him. An ashtray slides and falls off the edge of a table behind him… The whole ship was tilting.

Behind him Alfred and Arthur burst into the room, out of breath and soaked. They run through, toward the aft revolving door… then, Arthur stops and recognizes Ivan on the mantle. He sees that his lifebelt was off, lying on a table.

"Wait wait…" Arthur pulls Al back, then he turns to Ivan. "Won't you even make a try for it, Mr. Braginski?" he says cautiously.

With a regretful shaky voice, Ivan said, "I'm sorry… dat I did not build you a strongerr ship, young Arthurr."

Alfred, leans close to Arthur and whispers at his ear. "It's going down fast... we've got to keep moving."

Ivan turns from them, then picks up his lifebelt and hands it to Arthur. "Good luck to you, Arthur."

"And to you… Mr. Braginski."

Alfred pulls him away and they run through the revolving door leaving the ship's owner and builder alone to stare after their wake.

***

Finally, the band finishes the cheerful waltz as passenger bumps into the 4th string player in the last note. Wallace Hartley looks at his orchestra members.

"Right, that's it then." He says nonchalantly. "I think we should all make a try for it."

The members nod, and slowly, with their instruments, they go on their separate ways. The boats have now all been gone and people now run to the direction of the Stern. They run frantically, stampeding and stepping onto fallen persons. The ship was now, obviously tilting. The string members leave him, walking forward along the deck. Hartley watches them go… but he stays behind.

He puts his violin to his chin and bows the first notes of "Nearer My God to Thee".

One by one the band members turn back to look at him, hearing the lonely melody. Without a word they walk back and take their places. They join in with Hartley, filling out the sound so that it reaches all over the ship on this still night…

***

"Capitan… where should I go?"

Ludwig was startled out of his trance as he observes the chaos around him. He whips around to find a meek looking Ukrainian woman, carrying a baby bundled up warmly with thick cloth.

"Please…" she implored him.

He had no answer for her. Ludwig just nodded stiffly and went on his way, leaving the woman confused and filled with terror all the more. He walked in a daze. _This could not be happening, _the phrase repeated itself over and over inside his head. His heart felt heavy as he took long shallow intakes of breath with each step.

"Captain Ludwig…! Sir!" A seaman pulls off his lifebelt and catches up to Captain Ludwig as he walks to the direction of the Bridge. The seaman proffers it, but Ludwig seems to stare through him. Without a word he turns and goes on walking slowly, even when the cold waters reaches up to his knees.

***

In the First Class Smoking Room, Ivan stands like a statue. He pulls out his pocket watch and checks the time. Then he opens the face of the mantle clock and adjusts it to the correct time: 2:12 a.m. … Everything must be correct… His brandy glass that was sitting on top of the marble mantle slips beside him to the rugged floor.

***

Water swirls in from the private promenade deck in the Bonnefoy Parlour Suite,. Arthur's paintings were submerged. The Picasso transforms under the water's surface. Degas' colors run. Monet's water lilies come to life.

***

Vash Zwingly, with a gun clutched in his hand, stares at the hall of the dining saloon. The plates and china were floating all around him like flat lilies on a pond as the ship groans and creaks. Small clinking of porcelain could be heard. He did not make a sound as the water rose up to his waist then to his chest.

***

With shaky nimble hands, Feliciano removes the knots of the lifebelt from Gilbert's body, which was now lying limp on the wooden deck. Gilbert's blood was now slowly mixing with the seawater. Feliciano struggles to put the lifebelt on as the water rises around him. His wide brown eyes were still glazed with tears, but now he has stopped sobbing. He closes Gilbert's eyelids and gives his friend a kiss on the forehead.

"We shall meet again soon my friend." he whispers.

Feliciano stands up, letting Gilbert's body lull on the deck. With determination, he starts to jog towards the Bridge. Now, he needed to find the Captain… before it was all too late.

***

Francis sits next to the wailing child, whom he has completely forgotten. He gives Peter to a woman sitting with them on the boat. Horrified, he watches the water rising around the men as they work, scrambling to get the ropes cut so the ship won't drag the collapsible under.

The boat was hit by a wave as the bow plunges suddenly. It partially swamps the boat, washing it along the deck. Over a hundred passengers were plunged into the freezing water and the area around the boat becomes a frenzy of splashing, screaming people.

***

On the portside, Collapsible Boat B was picked up by water as a huge wave travels up the deck. Working frantically, the men try to detach it from the falls so the ship won't drag it under. Colonel Antonio Cerrido hands a crewman a pocket knife and he cuts furiously at the ropes as the water swirls around his legs. The boat, still upside down, was swept off the ship and the men, including Antonio, start diving in, swimming to stay with it.

***

Just when he was about to close the watertight door of the Wheelhouse, Ludwig hears splashing footsteps.

"CAPITANO!" Feliciano shouts. "Capitano I have found you!"

Ludwig wheels around stoically at the doorframe and his blue eyes grew astonished to see the Italian. A sudden wave of relief filled him, mixed with the weight of dread at the bottom of his stomach. Feliciano catches up to his side just in front of the door, panting. His brown eyes were wild, and so was his semi wet hair. Ludwig was surprised to see the Italian's hands were covered with blood, so were his shirt and his lifebelt. He did not get the chance to ask him though.

"Capitano!" overcome with emotion, Feliciano flings himself onto the Captain, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

Stunned, but feeling himself overcome too, Ludwig wraps his arms around the young man as tightly as he could, burying his face onto Feliciano's neck. For a few fleeting moments they stayed like that, before Ludwig had to push the Italian away at arms length. Now, worry was evident in his cold blue eyes.

"Feliciano, what are you still doing here?!" his voice was scolding, "You've got to get yourself to a boat, NOW!"

"No. Not without you, Capitano." Feliciano's eyes were starting to tear up again.

"I'm not leaving, Feliciano… I'm sorry. I _can't_ leave." Ludwig's voice was solemn.

"What?" the Italian frowned in confusion. "Why not?"

" '_A Captain must go down with his ship.'_ " Ludwig recited tonelessly.

"I don't understand." Feliciano's hands were twisted onto Ludwig's uniform, his eyes now flowing with earnest tears. "You must come with me!"

"Feliciano, look at me." Ludwig forces the young man's chin up. "Stop crying. Go… Save yourself. Forget about me."

Feliciano shakes his head determinedly this time. "No. If you're not going… then I'm staying here with you!"

Ludwig felt struck by these words. "You can't…" he felt his heart sink. "Don't be absurd! You've got to get yourself to a boat."

"But the boats have all gone."

"Then you should still make a try for it." Ludwig says firmly and clutches onto both of Feliciano's shoulders. "Please… I beg you. Leave me. Don't try to make this harder for me as it is."

Feliciano merely shakes his head and sobs quietly, not willing to let go of the Captain's uniform. The solemn music and the screams of the passengers echoed around them with the loud roar of the rushing waters.

"I still don't understand Capitano." Feliciano choked a sob. "I'm not letting you die just like Gilbert!"

Just then, a fast rush of water came at a huge wave towards the Bridge. Before the wall of water slaps against the wooden platform, Ludwig grabs Feliciano by the lapels into the Wheelhouse and shuts the watertight door just in time. The water surges, completely submerging the Bridge compartment in seconds. Feliciano could only see water out of the porthole of the door and out of the wide glass windows that surrounded the compartment… The noises outside were now completely gone. The two of them were now alone, surrounded by the gleaming brass instruments in the room. Ludwig seems to inwardly collapse. The both of them were now trapped.

***

Water roars through the doors and windows of the First Class entrance as it cascades down the opulent stairs like rapids in a fast river. Torris, the steward, was swept down the marble steps to A-Deck, which was already flooded into a roiling vortex of ocean. He grabs the headless cherub at the bottom of the staircase and wraps his arms around it. Around him the passengers… nobles, aristocrats and rich people, with their elegant dress gowns and tuxedos scream and struggle in horror as the Atlantic waters swept them away.

Torris looks up in time to see the 30 foot elegant glass dome overhead explode inward with the wave of water washing over into the foyer. A Niagara of sea water thunders down into the room, blasting through the first class opulence. It was the Armageddon of elegance.

***

Outside, the stay cables along the top of the funnel, snap out of their hooks, and lash like steel whips down into the water. Francis watches as the funnel topples from its mounts. Falling like a temple pillar twenty eight feet across, it whomps into the water with a tremendous splash. People swimming underneath it disappear in an instant.

The water pouring into the open end of the funnel, draws in several swimmers. The funnel sinks, disappearing, but –Hundreds of tons of water pour down through the 30 foot hole where the funnel stood, thundering down into the belly of the ship. A whirlpool forms, a hole in the ocean, like at enormous toilet-flush sucking in bodies of passengers into its mouth.

***

Captain Ludwig stands near the wheel of the ship and watches the water sloshing the glass windows of the enclosed wheelhouse. Feliciano stood next to him, his eyes wide with terror. Both of them knew of their predicament… They did not speak for long moments and the only thing that was heard was the groaning and creaking of the woodwork. Feliciano clutches onto the Captain's sleeve, his fingers trembling.

"Capitano…" Feliciano started with a soft voice, breaking the ear numbing silence. "This is… this is where we first met."

Ludwig faces him, his face had a stricken expression of a damned soul on Judgment Day. Without a word, he gathers Feliciano into his arms and held him as tightly as he could. The Italian starts to sob against his chest and Gilbert's blood was starting to stain the Captain's white uniform.

"Feliciano…" Ludwig's voice was thick in his throat. A weary sort of acceptance had fallen over on both of them once Feliciano had stopped crying. They held onto each other firmly as if they were afraid to let go. Now, there was nothing they could do at this point. "Do you regret ever meeting me?"

Feliciano lifted his eyes up to look at him and shook his head. "No Capitano. I've never regretted anything in my life. I think I've lived it the way I wanted to."

"That's one thing I envy about you." Ludwig said quietly. "You seem so free to do anything."

"How about you Capitano…? Do you ever regret that you've met me?"

"No… That's one thing in my life that I would never regret."

Slowly, Ludwig lifts Feliciano's chin and presses his lips firmly on the Italian's. It was soft and sweet and filled with all the mixed emotion that they were experiencing now.

The glass on the windows start to make tiny cracks along the edges of its frame and the sound it made was teeth-grinding. The weight and pressure of the water was now too much for the glass and the windows burst in on itself. A wall of freezing water edged with shards of glass slams in on both of them. Ludwig and Feliciano embraced tightly, hanging on for dear life as the both of them disappear in a vortex of white foam…

***

The passengers were now frantic on the upper decks of the Titanic. All the boats have now gone and their only means of survival was to climb up to the tilting stern. Wallace Hartley, the violinist, sees the water rolling rapidly up the deck toward them. He holds the last note of the hymn in a sustain, and then lowers his violin. His peers look at him in a resigned sort of manner.

"Gentlemen, it has been a privilege playing with you tonight." He says solemnly.

To be continued....

_Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down, _

_darkness be over me, my rest a stone;_

_yet in my dreams I'd be _

_nearer, my God, to thee;_

_nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee.._

* * *

AN: just maybe 3 or more chapters to go my lovelies. Please pray that I might finish it. oTL this has been long over due. Anyway... Have a happy Easter everyone! :)

Tell me what you guys think! Cheers!


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